IN  TERMS  OF  LI!-« 


:OBURN 


APR  3 


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I»OS  HlSlGEUna,  Cflll. 


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T0C  ANGILES 
LIBRARY 


IN     TERMS     OF     LIKE 


IN     TERMS    OF     LIFE 


SERMONS   AND    TALKS 
TO  COLLEGE  STUDENTS 


BY 
WILBUR    W.    THOBURN 

LATE    PROFESSOR  OF  BIONOMICS 
IN  THR  1  KI.AXH  STANFORD   JUNIOR  UNIVERSITY 


/  7  &  ft 


STANFORD     UNIVERSITY,    CALIFORNIA 
PUBLISHED   BY  THE   UNIVERSITY 

1899 


FtB  1908 


COPYRIGHT,  1899, 

BY 

HARRIET  W.  THOBURN. 


The  Murdock  Press,  San  Francisco 


V 

\  0 

-r     -a    £  • 

\       •-.     ^i  \ 

Cop.     \ 

CONTENTS. 


I. SERMONS  : 

&•   PRAYKB  (originally  prefixed  to  the  sermon 

on"  Our  Father") 13 

THE  WAY  (1897) 15 

OUR  FATHER  (1898) 35 

xOuR  RELIGION  (1898) 51 

^/NEW  WINE  AND  OLD  BOTTLES  (1897)     ...  67 

THANKSGIVING  (1897) 83 

LIBERTY  (1891)      93 

FRAGMENT  (1898) 107 

ii. —  LECTURE  FRAGMENTS: 

INTRODUCTORY 119 

THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFK 125 

ENVIRONMENT 135 

THE  NEW  BIRTH 139 

FAITH 145 

WORK 158 

SERVICE 171 

SYMPATHY 174 

PRAYER 177 

REST 186 

IMMORTALITY 198 

RELIGION  AS  A  SOCIAL  FACTOR 208 

III. —  APPENDIX  : 

IN  MEMORIAM                             223 


PREFATORY. 

Is  one  of  his  lecture  talks,  included  in  this 
volume,  Dr.  Thoburn  deprecates  the  very 
natural  desire  of  certain  students  to  possess 
his  printed  words.  With  him  this  was  more 
than  a  passing  feeling.  He  believed  in  the 
living  message,  and  he  aimed,  as  all  good 
teachers  do,  at  stirring  the  activities  rather 
than  storing  the  mind.  The  emphasis  put 
upon  this  point  must  bear  some  of  the  blame 
that  so  little  of  all  he  said  was  written  down. 
Yet  he  did  look  forward  to  the  possibility  of 
some  time  putting  into  print  the  things  he 
was  struggling  to  formulate.  And  as  his 
thought  ripened  he  seems  to  have  felt  more 
and  more  the  impulse  to  commit  himself  to 
manuscript.  To  the  last,  however,  the  use  of 
manuscript  in  pulpit  or  lecture-room  was 
hampering,  and  even  with  his  most  finished 
work  the  inspiration  of  the  occasion  often  led 
him  in  delivery  to  far  ovei'leap  the  written 


8  In  Terms  of  Life. 

bounds.  This  was  particularly  true  of  his 
lectures,  which  he  had  never  set  himself  to 
write  out  in  full. 

The  sermons  here  included  are  all,  with 
the  exception  of  the  unnamed  fragment, 
substantially  complete.  The  sermon  on 
Liberty,  the  first  one  given  in  the  Univer- 
sity Chapel,  is  the  only  one  not  prepared 
specifically  for  the  University.  Its  quality, 
however,  is  not  different  from  all  the  rest. 
It  should  be  noted  that  many  of  the  lecture 
fragments  are  also  sermon  fragments.  Those 
on  Rest  and  Immortality  are  not  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  sermons  as  actually  delivered ; 
that  on  Prayer  is  the  basis  of  his  sermon 
on  the  same  subject. 

Of  the  lecture  fragments  not  one  is  com- 
plete. Several  are  hardly  more  than  outline 
fragments,  included  here  because  of  some 
characteristic  tone  not  presented  so  strikingly 
elsewhere.  Religion  as  a  Social  Factor,  as 
here  written,  forms  about  half  of  his  first 
lecture  at  the  Coronado  Summer  School  of 
1896.  The  others  are  mainly  special  topics 
in  his  course  on  the  Life  and  Teachings  of 


Prefatory.  9 

Christ,  the  full  lectures  existing  merely  in 
outline. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  nothing 
here  included  had  been  made  ready  for  pub- 
lication. To  have  done  this  would  have 
required,  from  Dr.  Thoburn's  point  of  view, 
a  severe  revision,  much  amplification,  and  of 
course  the  elimination  of  repetitions.  What 
is  here  fragmentary  would  have  been  rounded 
out  to  something  like  completeness.  Some 
statements  —  graspings  at  truth  —  would 
doubtless  have  been  modified:  he  himself 
felt  often  that  he  had  failed  in  his  formula- 
tion, and  that  he  should  reach  a  more  ade- 
quate and  satisfactory  expression.  But,  after 
all,  that  book  would  not  have  been  different 
from  this  —  only  a  larger  and  riper  interpre- 
tation of  a  life  singularly  sweet  and  whole- 
some. It  is  his  life  in  these  fragments  that 
will  live.  To  his  old  students  and  friends 
they  will  bring  back  the  unassuming,  helpful 
presence,  the  resonant  moral  atmosphere  in 
which  he  lived  and  worked;  and  to  college 
students  who  have  never  known  his  presence, 
but  who  face  the  same  problems,  it  does  not 


10  In  Terms  of  Life. 

seem  too  much  to  believe  that  these  printed 
words  will  come  with  something  of  the  same 
illuminating  and  healing  ministration.  There 
is  nothing  here  that  can  hurt;  there  is  no 
wanton  or  unloving  touch;  all  is  helpful  and 
hopeful  and  onward. 

It  only  remains  to  note  the  possibility  of 
misquotations,  and  that  in  some  cases  quota- 
tion-marks may  have  been  misplaced  or 
omitted  altogether.  These  and  doubtless 
other  errors  have  been  rendered  unavoidable 
by  the  hasty  and  temporary  character  of  the 

manuscript. 

O.  L.  E. 

June,  1899. 


I.— SERMONS 


Our  Father  —  Father  of  our  Lord  and 
Master,  and  our  Father.  Wlio  shall  measure 
the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  ivisdom 
and  the  knowledge  of  God!  How  unsearch- 
able are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past 
tracing  out!  For  who  hath  known  thy 
mind,  0  Lord  ?  or  tvho  hath  been  thy 
counsellor?  or  who  hath  first  given  to  thee, 
and  it  shall  be  recompensed  unto  him  again  ? 
For  of  thee  and  through  thee  and  unto  thee 
are  all  things.  Yet  thou  art  our  Father, 
and  for  this  cause  we  bow  our  knees  unto 
thee,  of  ivhom  all  men  are  named,  that 
thou  ivouldst  grant  us,  according  to  the 
riches  of  thy  glory,  that  we  may  be  strength- 
ened with  power  through  thy  spirit  in  the 
inward  man;  that  Christ  may  dwell  in  our 
hearts  by  faith;  to  the  end  that  ive,  being 
rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  may  be  strong 
to  apprehend  with  all  the  good  what  is  the 

13 


14  In  Terms  of  Life. 

breadth  and  length  and  height  and  depth, 
and  to  knoiv  the  love  of  Christ  which 
passeth  knotvledge,  that  ive  may  be  filled 
with  all  the  fullness  of  God. 

May  thy  kingdom  come  and  thy  will  be 
done.  Give  us  from  day  to  day  food  for 
our  needs.  Forsake  us  not  in  our  trials. 
Guard  us  from  all  evil.  Forgive  our  trans- 
gressions. Help  us  to  be  forgiving.  And 
unto  thee,  wlio  art  able,  to  do  exceeding 
abundantly,  above  all  that  ive  can  ask  or 
think,  according  as  the  power  for  receiv- 
ing worketh  in  us,  to  thee  be  glory,  for 
ever.  Amen. 


THE   WAY 


THE    WAY. 

/  7  0  3  %• 

"  I  AM  the  Way."  Christ  is  speaking 
—  speaking  of  himself.  A  quick  way  to 
know  a  man  is  to  watch  him  when  he  is 
speaking  about  himself.  Some  cannot 
speak  respectfully  of  themselves.  They 
deserve  no  respect.  Others  talk  to  their 
own  ears  about  themselves.  They  are 
egotists.  Others  talk  themselves  to  those 
who  have  ears  to  hear.  Listen  to  these; 
they  are  like  children,  and  deal  with  the 
truth. 

Christ  often  speaks  of  himself.  I 
know  of  no  other  religious  teacher  who 
does  so  much  of  it.  And  yet  one  always 
feels  that  his  thoughts  are  not  with  him- 
self, but  with  those  to  whom  he  is  giving 
himself  helpfully.  No  one  could  call 
Christ  an  egotist.  There  are  teachers 
who  have  wonderful  power  in  selecting 
beautiful  thoughts  and  pictures  out  of 
the  records  of  the  past,  and  passing  them 


18  In  Terms  of  Life. 

on  to  others.     They  have  an  instinct  for 
ideals,  and  they  build  Utopias  of  them 

that  make  this  dusty  world  seem  uncom- 

tfej 
fortable,  and  their  intoxicated  followers 

never  get  a  sober  view  of    life  without 
turning  pessimists. 

Again,  there  are  teachers  who  talk 
about  life  and  what  they  get  out  of  it, 
who  exhibit  the  handful  of  nuggets  they 
have  dug  and  tell  where  they  found  them. 
And  as  we  listen  we  are  aroused  to  dig, 
too.  Their  hopeful  and  successful  lives 
quicken  ours.  Christ  belonged  to  this 
second  class.  There  is  a  peculiar  power 
in  his  "I  say  unto  you."  One  feels  that 
he  has  lived  his  words  and  that  they  can 
be  lived.  Solomon  holds  up  ideals  and 
precepts,  but  does  not  live  them.  And 
every  view  of  Solomon  we  get  through 
his  words  shows  a  pessimist  whom  life 
has  soured.  We  feel  like  saying,  "  Solo- 
mon, take  your  own  medicine," — "Phy- 
sician, heal  thyself."  The  ideal  of  Christ 
is  himself,  and  because  he  was  so  much 
of  a  man  and  dealt  so  much  with  com- 
monplace things,  we  feel  that  we  can  do 
as  he  did. 


The  Way.  19 

Precepts  and  rules  of  life  and  high 
ideals  are  useful  as  they  mold  and  shape 
us  while  we  behold  them.  They  are  food 
for  action.  They  are  not  guides  to  life. 
Habits  are  guides  to  living,  and  habits 
are  formed  by  doing.  One  cannot  stop 
at  every  cross-road  to  consult  a  note-book 
for  the  proper  precept. 

Men  are  neither  trained  nor  saved  by 
being  preached  at.  They  seem  to  enjoy 
it,  and  often  pay  liberally  for  a  weekly 
exhibition  of  beautiful  ideals  and  well- 
worded  proverbs.  These  delight  and 
amuse  them  as  the  bottles  on  the  drug- 
gist's shelves  amuse  a  child, —  but  they 
make  wry  faces  if  asked  to  taste  them. 

A  patriarcji,  a  preacher,  who  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  family  of  men  and  women, 
said:  "  I  never  tried  to  talk  religion  to 
my  children  but  once.  I  got  my  little 
girl,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  and  preached 
at  her.  Next  week  I  said,  '  Come,  let 
papa  bilk  to  you.'  She  said,  'All  right, 
papa;  but  please  do  not  talk  as  you  did 
last  Sunday.' ' 

Far  more  reaching  than  a  father's 
words  —  and  fathers  are  apt  to  be  popes 


20  In  Terms  of  Life. 

in  their  families  —  is  a  father's  life;  and 
a  mother  is  not  a  collection  of  fine  say- 
ings, but  an  eternal  influence  of  finer 
acts.  I  have  heard  more  than  one  mother 
mourn  because  she  could  not  say  the  right 
thing,  who  was  all  the  time  an  incarna- 
tion, in  her  world  of  boys  and  girls,  of 
the  living  God.  Men  and  women  are 
molded  by  the  silent,  constant  influence 
of  a  home  far  more  than  by  the  daily 
scolding  and  advising.  Morning  prayers 
are  a  poor  substitute  for  a  day  of  reli- 
gion. A  home  saturated  with  peace  and 
purity  is  the  larger  part  of  the  training 
of  every  child.  Schools  and  universities 
are  extras  to  be  added  later. 

In  the  old  days  a  father  built  a  home 
for  his  family.  It  was  complete  in  every 
part,  but  the  altar  around  which  they 
gathered  in  prayer  had  yet  no  place. 
The  mother  wished  it  in  the  kitchen. 
There  she  was  perplexed  with  her  many 
cares.  The  father  wished  it  in  his  study. 
God  seemed  nearer  to  him  among  his 
books.  The  son  wished  it  in  the  room 
where  guests  were  received,  that  the  stran- 
ger entering  might  know  they  worshiped 


The  Way.  21 

God.  So  they  agreed  to  leave  the  matter  to 
the  youngest,  who  was  a  little  child.  Now, 
the  altar  was  a  shaft  of  polished  wood, 
very  fragrant,  and  the  child,  who  loved 
most  of  all  to  sit  before  the  great  fire 
and  see  beautiful  forms  in  the  flames, 
said,  "See,  the  log  is  gone;  put  it  there." 
So  because  one  would  not  yield  to  the 
other,  they  obeyed,  and  the  log  was  con- 
sumed, and  its  sweet  odors  filled  the 
whole  house  —  the  kitchen,  the  study,  and 
the  guest-hall, —  and  the  child  saw  beau- 
tiful forms  in  the  flames. 

We  can  never  define  or  limit  our  influ- 
ence upon  men  and  women  by  words. 
Good  or  bad,  it  will  always  vary  with 
the  amount  of  ourselves  we  put  into  our 
words.  Far  more  important  than  any- 
thing you  learn  here,  than  any  phrases 
or  precepts  you  hear,  is  the  use  you 
make  of  them. 

You  will  be  deceived,  chiefly  by  your- 
selves. These  early  college  days  are  a 
springtime  with  you,  and  the  early  shoots 
of  spring  are  larger  and  weaker  than  the 
later  summer  growths.  You  will  think 
you  are  learning  far  more  than  you  are 


22  In  Terms  of  Life. 

learning.  The  screaming  eagle  on  the 
silver  does  not  make  it  worth  a  dollar, 
though  it  may  pass  for  one.  After  years 
of  talking  and  acting,  of  appearing  to  be, 
of  trying  and  failing  and  succeeding,  you 
will  be  valued  at  your  true  worth.  There 
is  a  premium  on  truthfulness;  and  the 
more  of  ourselves  we  can  express  in  our 
living,  so  much  more  will  we  be  useful 
to  our  fellows.  Personality  counts.  It 
is  our  intrinsic  worth.  A  bubble  may 
be  a  thousand  times  as  large  as  a  pellet 
of  lead,  and  far  more  showy,  yet  on 
the  scales  the  lead  weighs  down  many 
bubbles.  Gravitation  is  never  deceived 
by  appearances.  The  tests  of  life  are 
as  minute  and  searching.  At  the  end 
of  threescore  and  ten  years  of  living 
a  man  will  be  known  very  much  as  he 
knows  himself.  His  value  as  a  social 
factor  will  be  measured  by  the  force  he 
can  put  into  the  personal  pronoun  that 
expresses  his  being.  No  one  who  is  true 
need  be  afraid  of  saying,  "I  say  unto 
you."  I  saw  this  room  crowded  nearly 
from  floor  to  ceiling  to  hear  Mrs.  Booth. 
I  have  seen  many  crowds  here,  but  never 


The  Way.  23 

one  so  moved  as  when  that  little  woman 
talked  of  that  for  which  she  stood.  No 
acting  could  equal  it.  She  was  her  own 
credentials.  No  one  else  could  have  done 
it.  Her  life  of  truth  and  devotion  was 
being  vocalized,  and  those  who  cared 
little  for  the  Salvation  Army  were  over- 
whelmed by  the  truth  incarnated.  It  is 
always  so.  It  is  this  element  in  Christ's 
teaching  that  gives  it  power.  He  spoke 
himself.  He  was  the  truth.  If  he  had 
not  been  true,  men  would  have  known  it. 
We  can  lie  with  our  lips,  but  not  with  our 
lives.  Christ  was  not  killed  because  he 
was  false,  but  because  other  men  did  not 
like  the  contrast  between  his  life  and 
theirs. 

Any  comparison  of  Christ  with  other 
religious  teachers  must  notice  this  pecu- 
liarity: without  exception  they  stand  and 
point  the  way;  they  talk  about  the  truth. 
Christ  says,  I  am  the  way,  follow  we:  I 
am  the  truth,  believe  me.  Other  teachers 
talk  about  God  and  his  attributes  and 
how  to  reach  him,  but  when  Philip  asks 
Christ  to  show  him  the  Father,  he  points 
to  himself  and  says,  "Have  I  been  so 


24  In  Terms  of  Life. 

long  time  with  you  and  yet  hast  thou 
not  known  me,  Philip?" — "He  that  hath 
seen  me  [that  is,  a  true  man]  hath  seen 
all  of  God  that  human  eyes  ever  can 
see."  Whatever  definition  of  God  men 
may  crave  to  satisfy  their  philosophical 
instincts,  Christ's  conception  of  God  is 
the  only  one  tnat  men  can  live  with. 
Men  have  been  led  far  afield  by  doctrines 
about  God;  but  when  burdens  are  heavy 
and  the  men  are  tired,  when  life  is  real 
and  nothing  but  the  home-feeling  can  sat- 
isfy, then  they  turn  from  definitions  to 
Christ's  God  and  rest  in  the  presence  of 
the  Father.  Eeason  may  laugh  at  it  and 
call  it  man-worship,  and  talk  about  ab- 
stract and  unlivable  deity.  But  if  it  is  a 
weakness,  it  is  one  that  strong  men  often 
cultivate.  The  God  incarnated  in  the 
race  is  the  God  of  Christ,  the  humanized 
God  of  our  daily  experience.  He  brings 
back  to  people  the  absentee  deity  which 
philosophy  is  forever  moving  from  one 
corner  of  the  universe  to  another,  and  puts 
him  once  more  in  human  hearts  and  says 
to  men,  "There  is  your  God;  worship 
him  —  where  and  how  you  please, —  but 


The  Way.  25 

if  you  want  him  to  stay  with  you,  you 
must  stay  with  him  and  lead  his  life  and 
busy  yourself  with  his  business." 

Within,  you  have  the  raw  material  to 
make  your  Father's  image,  but  you  can 
take  the  same  stuff  and  make  many  worse 
things  of  it.  Christ  saw  this  truth,  and 
pointing  to  himself  as  a  son  of  man,  liv- 
ing his  best,  true,  he  said,  "He  that  hath 
seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father."  And  any 
one  of  us  may  do  the  same.  We  may 
point  to  that  in  us  which  is  good  and 
true  and  say,  "This  is  the  Father."  I 
hope  to  grow  more  and  more  of  him 
within  me  until  I  am  full  of  him,  an 
incarnation. 

Now,  please  do  not  commence  to  ana- 
lyze these  words  and  distribute  them 
among  your  theological  pigeonholes  to 
see  what  kind  of  an  arian  I  am,  or  what 
manner  of  ism  this  is.  Try  it  by  the  test 
of  life,  and  if  it  works,  it  is  of  God  and 
true.  It  will  reveal  you  to  yourself.  It 
will  glorify  your  life.  It  will  help  you 
to  conquer  yourself.  It  will  show  you 
God  in  an  expanding  revelation  around 
and  within  you,  increasing  his  influence 


26  In  Terms  of  Life. 

as  you  increase  your  touch  with  him, 
reacting  upon  you  as  you  act  with  him, 
making  your  goodness  the  product  of  the 
goodness,  your  truth  a  fragment  of  all 
truth,  your  life  eternal  life. 

A  man  can  know  that  he  is  a  son  of 
God  only  as  he  feels  it  in  himself,  only 
as  he  sees,  just  as  any  growing  boy  comes 
to  see,  that  he  and  his  father  are  made  of 
the  same  stuff  and  by  the  same  pattern. 
When  a  man  learns  this  truth  he  is  a 
made  man.  When  he  sees  that  his  affairs 
and  God's  are  one,  when  the  things  he 
wants  to  do  are  the  things  he  sees  God 
wants  done,  when  his  Father's  business 
is  his  business,  then  he  is  saved.  It  is  a 
good  word,  lightly  and  flippantly  used 
sometimes,  but  we  can  load  it  full  of 
meaning, —  saved  from  wastefulness,  from 
anxiety  about  things  that  last  only  a  little 
while,  saved  to  live  with  eternal  things 
forever. 

But  a  man  is  very  lonely  when  he  lives 
apart  from  God.  When  he  looks  upon 
the  great  world-movements  as  a  student 
only,  from  the  outside,  he  makes  an  out- 
cast and  an  alien  of  himself.  When  his 


The  Way.  27 

world  and  the  world  are  separate, —  him- 
self and  his  God  two  beings  with  distinct 
purposes, —  he  is  apt  to  find  himself  go- 
ing the  wrong  way  and  life  full  of  snares. 

I  enjoy  the  way  my  two  boys  speak  of 
my  things  as  ours.  They  are  only  five 
and  seven,  and  their  theology  is  yet  very 
crude.  In  a  measure  I  stand  in  God's 
place  with  them.  They  have  things  they 
call  their  own, —  some  of  their  remote 
ancestors  must  have  been  selfish, —  but 
they  own  my  things,  too.  Perhaps  after 
fifteen  or  twenty  years  I  will  have  them 
better  trained;  but  it  is  delightful  now 
to  have  them  feel  as  if  they  owned  me, 
just  as  I  feel  that  I  own  them.  I  will 
lose  something  if  we  grow  apart. 

When  a  man  has  learned  to  join  his 
life  to  God's  life,  it  changes  his  attitude 
toward  his  fellows.  One  cannot  recog- 
nize his  relation  and  likeness  to  his  father 
without  looking  for  the  same  traits  in 
others.  Wherever  we  find  men  saying 
"  Our  Father,"  we  find  them  saying  "  My 
brother  "  also.  The  two  are  inseparable. 
This  was  Christ's  way.  He  was  with 
people,  busy  with  them, —  not  osteuta- 


28  In  Terms  of  Life. 

tiously  measuring  and  calculating  bis 
charity,  but  naturally,  sharing  their  lives. 
He  did  not  say  to  a  man,  "  Here  am  I,  and 
there  are  you;  give  me  your  burden  and 
I  will  bear  it  for  you."  He  said,  "Here 
we  are;  take  hold,  and  let  us  bear  this 
burden  of  ours."  He  and  his  gift  were 
never  separated.  He  and  the  man  he 
was  helping  were  always  one.  This 
accounts  for  his  self-forgetfulness.  It  is 
a  great  thing  to  be  unconscious  of  self  in 
one's  work, —  to  throw  ourselves  under  a 
burden  just  as  if  we  were  some  one  else; 
to  identify  ourselves  and  our  beneficence 
just  as  God  does.  This  was  Christ's  way. 
He  told  a  story  which  illustrates  it. 
There  were  two  boys  in  a  family.  Both 
were  selfish,  and  both  planned  to  have  a 
good  time.  One  took  his  share  of  his 
father's  goods  and  went  away  from  home 
and  led  a  fast  life.  People  said  he  went 
to  the  bad.  The  other  stayed  at  home 
and  saved.  The  good  time  he  was  plan- 
ning for  was  in  the  future,  when  his 
father  was  dead  and  he  would  have  all. 
One  day  the  rake  came  home,  spent, 
wasted,  humbled.  The  servants  were 


The  Way.  29 

told  to  make  a  feast.  The  older  brother 
was  scandalized  at  his  reception.  "  It  is 
all  right  to  be  charitable,"  he  said;  "but 
I  do  not  think  he  ought  to  be  treated  as 
a  member  of  the  family  again.  I  think 
the  father  is  too  easy  on  him.  I  '11  never 
let  him  forget  that  he  is  a  reformed 
prodigal."  But  the  father  took  the  poor 
burned-out  cinder  of  a  life  in  his  arms,  and 
said,  "My  boy,  my  boy!" 

This  was  Christ's  way,  and  those  who 
have  caught  his  spirit  are  going  about 
this  world  saying,  "  These  children  shall 
be  my  children;  these  men  shall  be  my 
brethren."  And  this  mothering  and 
brotheriug  of  the  race  is  the  only  way 
of  helping  it.  One  who  has  learned  to 
know  God  in  Christ's  way  loves  others 
just  as  naturally  as  he  loves  himself. 

Christ  says,  "I  am  the  way."  He 
means  that  his  way  is  the  way  to  live. 
Not  the  way  to  be  religious.  This  was 
not  a  sermon,  not  said  on  Sunday.  It  was 
ordinary  conversation  about  life.  Christ 
was  telling  the  way  to  live.  Oh,  how  much 
we  lose  by  making  a  mere  preacher  out 
of  Christ!  Religion  and  life  are  never 


30  In  Terms  of  Life. 

two  separate  occupations  to  the  man  who 
carries  his  God  around  in  his  own  heart. 
You  cannot  take  a  mother  and  separate 
her  into  her  parts  and  say,  "  Here  is  a 
child,  here  is  a  woman,  here  is  the 
motherhood."  The  dissection  destroys 
motherhood.  So  the  separation  of  any 
part  of  your  life  from  your  religion 
destroys  your  religion  by  so  much. 
Christ's  way  —  the  complete  identifica- 
tion of  himself  and  his  God — is  the 
only  true  life.  And  life  and  religion 
may  be  one. 

You  cannot  live  without  a  religion. 
Many  will  try.  Confusing  religion  and 
belief,  because  they  cannot  believe  as 
other  men  do,  they  bundle  all  beliefs  out 
of  doors  and  say  they  are  not  religious. 
Do  not  follow  these.  When  you  are  very 
busy,  your  beliefs,  like  your  clothes,  will 
wear  out  rapidly,  and  you  will  provide 
yourself  with  new  ones.  But  keep  very 
busy.  I  care  less  for  what  you  believe 
than  for  what  you  do.  Eeligion  is  not 
what  men  believe;  that  is  philosophy. 
Keligiou  is  what  men  do  with  their 
beliefs  — "  emotion  in  action,"  Dr.  Jordan 


The  Way.  31 

defines  it.  Now,  every  man  has  some 
central  principle  from  which  his  emotions 
flow.  With  very  many  it  is  fear.  With 
many  more  it  is  duty;  the  word  ought  be- 
comes a  kind  of  impersonal  God,  and  sits 
in  judgment  over  every  act.  With  others 
it  is  avarice;  they  act  because  it  will  pay 
them  either  now  or  hereafter.  With 
others  still,  it  is  love;  all  they  do  and 
plan  is  for  others.  They  are  as  unreason- 
ably unselfish  about  this  as  a  mother  in 
serving  her  child.  But  these  are  pleasant 
people,  and  one  is  sure  to  feel  better  who 
meets  one  of  them.  Christ  was  one  of 
these.  This  was  his  way.  All  lovers  of 
their  fellows  are  Christians,  too,  and  are 
saving  their  people  by  serving  them. 
They  may  label  themselves  with  some 
other  title,  but  that  makes  little  differ- 
ence. Their  reward  is  the  same.  They 
save  men. 

This  is  the  test  of  any  religion  —  its 
value  as  a  social  factor.  Governor  Stan- 
ford is  quoted  as  saying,  "  Whichever 
form  of  religion  furnishes  the  greatest 
comfort,  the  greatest  solace,  is  the  form 
that  should  be  adopted,  be  its  name  what 


32  In  Terms  of  Life. 

it  may."  How  shall  we  determine  which 
this  religion  is?  By  comparing  the  re- 
ligions of  the  world'?  We  can  define 
them,- — Confucianism,  Buddhism,  Mo- 
hammedanism, Zoroastrianism,  or  Juda- 
ism. Surely,  if  splendid  systems  could 
form  a  perfect  life,  these  would  furnish 
them.  But  when  we  come  to  Christ,  we 
can  make  no  definition.  There  is  no 
Christism.  The  so-called  doctrines  of 
Christ  are  not  new.  But  Christ  is  new. 
With  an  egotism  that  would  be  despicable 
if  it  were  not  divine,  he  boldly  pushes 
himself  before  his  sayings,  and  says,  "I 
am  the  way."  These  others  formulated 
rules  and  precepts.  Christ  gave  himself. 
Living  by  rule  and  precept  is  tiresome  and 
discouraging.  Personality  is  contagious. 
It  is  the  contagion  of  Christ's  personality 
that  is  conquering  this  world.  Men 
quarrel  over  Christianity,  but  Christ's 
way  is  rapidly  becoming  the  way  of  the 
whole  world;  not  only  among  those  who 
call  themselves  Christians,  but  among  the 
Jews  and  Mohammedans  and  Buddhists 
as  well,  the  leaven  is  working.  It  makes 
the  most  of  every  man.  It  puts  in  every 


The  Way.  33 

man's  hand  the  key  to  his  own  life.  It 
points  every  man  to  the  best  and  noblest 
in  his  own  nature  and  says,  "  Here  is 
your  God-likeness, —  feed  it."  It  breaks 
down  all  barriers  between  man  and  his 
God.  When  this  is  true,  it  is  of  little 
consequence  whether  we  label  ourselves 
by  one  title  or  another.  If  you  wish  to 
bring  the  world  to  God,  you  cannot  preach 
a  theology  and  win.  Go  out  and  live 
God  among  your  fellows,  and  they  will 
be  helped  to  live  God,  too. 

It  is  this  I  now  urge  upon  you:  Choose 
Christ's  way.  Choose  him.  Go  at  the 
world  in  his  way.  In  the  laboratory  and 
classroom,  in  the  study,  on  the  field, 
among  your  fellows  during  the  idle  hour 
as  well  as  during  that  time  every  man 
ought  to  spend  alone  —  make  it  all  your 
Father's  business.  I  ask  you  to  begin 
this  year  of  your  college  life  as  Chris- 
tians. I  do  not  define  Christian.  Do 
that  for  yourself.  I  do  not  ask  you 
to  surrender  your  individuality,  except 
as  individuality  must  forever  be  sub- 
servient to  sociality.  I  lay  down  no 
conditions,  nor  require  any  tests  other 


34  In  Terms  of  Life. 

than  those  you  yourself  create.  I  say 
nothing  about  joining  this  church  or 
that.  When  you  are  at  your  work  in  the 
world  you  will  find  that  you  amount  to 
more  co-operating  in  an  organization  than 
alone,  and  you  will  find  one  to  your  liking. 
Look  at  Christ,  and  in  your  own  way 
be  like  him.  You  will  find  many  pleas- 
ant companions  going  the  same  way. 
Your  own  companionship  will  be  pleasant 
to  you.  Yonder  in  the  forest  I  count 
different  kinds  of  vegetation  by  the  score, 
tall  trees  and  clinging  vines,  shrubs  and 
nestling  annuals,  ferns  and  mosses  in  the 
canon,  grasses  and  many-colored  blossoms 
in  the  open  places, —  each  one  searching 
for  its  share  of  the  same  warm,  bright 
sunlight,  and  each  making  out  of  it  its 
best  of  its  own  kind.  Consider  these 
lilies  of  the  field;  surely  our  Heavenly 
Father  feedeth  them  all.  Be  your  best 
self,  and  you  will  surely  find  God  work- 
ing with  you.  And  you  will  understand 
how  Christ  could  say,  "  I  and  my  Father 
are  one." 


OUR    FATHER 


"OUK   FATHER" 

ONE  day,  when  Jesus  was  talking  about 
God  to  his  disciples,  Philip  interrupted 
him,  by  asking,  "  Lord,  show  us  the 
Father  and  we  will  be  satisfied."  And 
Jesus  said  to  Philip,  "  Have  I  been  so 
long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not 
known  me?"  "The  Father  and  I  are  so 
mixed,  so  amalgamated,  that  my  loving 
is  his  loving  ;  my  goodness,  his  goodness ; 
my  wisdom,  his  wisdom.  I  am  in  the 
Father  and  the  Father  in  me,  and  all 
these  works  that  I  am  doing,  we  —  the 
Father  and  I  —  are  doing.  The  words  I 
speak  and  the  works  I  do  are  his  works 
and  words." 

This  was  the  Master's  way  of  quieting 
Philip's  fears  that  he  could  not  get  near 
enough  to  God  to  feel  at  home  with  him. 
Jesus  was  conscious  of  God.  He  never 
denned  him.  He  never  sought  to  prove 
his  existence  or  establish  any  doctrines 

37 


38  In  Terms  of  Life. 

about  him.  He  assumed  God,  and  talked 
about  him  as  naturally  as  a  boy  talks 
about  his  father.  When  he  was  going 
about  doing  good,  he  unquestionably  rec- 
ognized that  God  was  doing  the  same; 
so  they  worked  together.  I  have  noticed 
that  a  boy  who  occasionally  takes  hold 
and  helps  me  in  something  I  am  doing 
does  not  first  ask  for  proof  that  I  am  his 
father,  nor  does  he  insist  that  some  one 
point  out  the  family  likeness.  He  just 
takes  hold  and  helps,  or  imagines  he 
helps,  and  links  himself  to  me  by  talking 
a  great  deal  about  our  work,  and  what  we 
are  doing.  He  just  assumes  that  I  am, 
and  that  our  life  is  one,  as  it  is.  Now, 
this  is  the  way  that  Jesus  always  acts 
toward  God.  When  he  is  working,  he 
expects  God  to  co-operate,  and  he  does. 
When  he  is  in  trouble,  he  cries  out  for 
help,  and  it  comes.  When  he  is  anxious 
about  leaving  the  crude  and  unripe  dis- 
ciples alone  in  the  world,  he  talks  the 
whole  situation  over  with  his  Father  as 
naturally  as  if  they  were  sitting  together 
in  the  firelight  before  some  family  hearth- 
stone. This  wonderfully  successful  and 


"Our  Father."  39 

ideal  life  that  Jesus  led  received  its  whole 
explanation  and  impetus  from  this  rela- 
tionship between  him  and  his  God.  We 
cannot  read  about  it  or  study  his  life 
without  believing  that  the  relationship 
was  real.  Whether  God  did  his  part  or 
not,  we  cannot  escape  the  conclusion  that 
Jesus  lived  and  loved  and  served  and 
died  as  he  did  because  of  his  conviction 
that  he  and  his  Father  were  one, —  one 
in  spirit,  in  aim,  in  purpose.  And  when 
we  think  of  the  stupendous  miracle  of 
Christianity,  when  we  see  his  principles 
abiding,  his  life  and  spirit  going  into  all 
the  dark  corners  of  the  world,  we  must 
believe  that  God  was  with  him,  and  he 
knew  it.  It  is  that  which  "  works,"  which 
stands  the  tests  of  time  and  place,  wrhich 
has  God  with  it;  and  the  everlasting  life 
of  Jesus  is  the  strongest  proof  we  could 
have  that  his  method  of  conscious  par- 
ticipation with  God's  life  is  the  true  way 
of  living.  But  how  often  the  cry  comes 
from  anxious  and  perplexed  ones,  "Oh, 
if  I  could  only  know  God  in  this  real, 
personal  way,  then  I  could  live  ! "  How 
many  times  I  have  been  asked,  "  Show 


40  In  Terms  of  Life. 

me  the  Father,  and  I  will  be  satisfied,"- 
"  Show  me  a  personal  God,  and  I  will 
pray  to  him ! "  Dissatisfaction  always 
waits  on  the  soul  whose  aspirations  are 
limited  by  its  own  sight  and  understand- 
ing. 

Men  may  not  all  pray,  but  all  men  want 
to  pray.  Yet  prayer  is  communion,  and 
is  impossible  unless  two  beings  recog- 
nize common  life  as  the  basis  of  the 
asking  and  giving.  So  when  people  lose 
the  idea  of  a  personal  God  they  stop 
praying.  When  our  intellects  have  ban- 
ished God  from  his  home  in  our  hearts 
and  sent  him  out  among  the  stars  to  build 
and  uphold  things,  then,  however  much 
we  may  hunger  for  sympathy  or  need 
help,  we  will  not  address  our  prayers  to 
the  stellar  spaces.  We  can  feel  no  fellow- 
ship or  commonness  with  a  being  whose 
business  it  is  to  make  worlds  out  of 
nebulae,  or  who  manifests  himself  as 
gravitation  or  chemical  affinity.  We  can 
know  God  only  on  ground  common  to 
God  and  man ;  not  on  a  plane  of  omnipo- 
tence, for  man  is  not  omnipotent;  not 
on  a  plane  of  omnipresence,  for  man 


"Our  Father."  41 

is  a  little  creature,  and  must  stay  close 
at  home  ;  but  on  a  ground  common  to 
God,  who  makes  and  upholds  all  things, 
and  man,  who  can  make  nothing,  and 
upholds  indifferently  well.  This  must 
l)e  man's  ground.  Notice  how  my  boy 
and  I  meet  and  talk.  I  do  not  talk 
bionomics  to  him  or  expect  him  to  talk 
about  the  laws  of  life  to  me.  He  does 
not  dream  of  such  things.  They  are  my 
life.  We  talk  about  his  things.  A  few 
weeks  ago  it  was  marbles,  and  I  had  to 
listen  to  "  agates "  and  "  comps,"  etc. 
Now  it  is  tops,  and  I  am  learning  over 
again  the  top  vocabulary.  I  must,  if  I 
keep  my  dominion  over  him.  "  Tops  " 
at  present  represents  a  part  of  our  com- 
mon ground.  We  live  together  there. 
We  have  other  points  where  wre  meet. 
W"e  sit  in  the  same  big  chair  before  the 
fire,  and  talk  at  each  other,  he  talking 
up  to  me,  and  calling  me  "Father,"  and 
I  talking  down  to  him  such  things  out 
of  my  larger  life  as  he  will  comprehend, 
planning  to  give  him  every  good  thing  I 
can,  and  a  few  of  the  many  things  he  asks 
for.  But  all  the  time  it  is  his  ground  we 


42  In  Terms  of  Life. 

meet  on.  Some  day,  when  he  has  grown 
up  into  my  stature,  we  will  talk  face  to 
face,  but  now  he  finds  me,  if  he  finds  me 
at  all,  in  his  own  heart  and  life. 

Now,  this  common  ground  where  we 
meet  —  a  fragment  of  my  life,  all  of  his  — 
is  my  life  in  him  and  his  in  me.  Here 
love  dwells;  here  is  communion.  Here 
we  trade  prayers  for  answers,  knowledge 
for  ignorance,  help  for  weakness. 

Now,  I  want  to  teach  a  great  lesson  by 
this  homely  illustration.  The  illustra- 
tion you  can  all  understand,  because  you 
have  others  like  it  in  your  own  lives. 
Such  things  have  been  with  you  ahvays. 
Have  you  not  seen  God  in  them  ?  When 
Philip  wanted  to  see  God,  Jesus  pointed 
to  his  own  clean,  strong,  loving  life  and 
said,  "  This  is  the  Father  in  me."  So 
I  want  to  urge  you  to  take  out  of  your 
commonest  daily  experiences  the  love  that 
is  there,  the  kindness,  the  truth,  the  hun- 
ger for  better  things,  the  hatred  for  un- 
clean things,  all  those  aspirations  that 
draw  toward  a  larger  life, —  away  from 
what  you  now  are,  toward  what  you  would 
be, —  take  all  of  these  real  facts  out  of 


"Our  Father."  43 

your  life  and  name  them  "  Father."  When 
you  long  for  the  sense  of  a  personal  God, 
you  mean  that  you  want  to  feel  that  you 
and  God  are  alike,  you  want  to  draw  on 
him  for  help,  and  feel  the  help  come. 
You  want  to  pray  and  talk  over  your  life 
with  a  real  being  like  yourself,  but  strong, 
not  with  an  impersonal  force.  This  is 
just  what  Christ  did.  So  real  was  God 
to  him  that  he  called  him  Father,  and 
we  can  do  the  same.  I  do  not  hesitate  a 
moment  to  say  that  we  can  live  as  Jesus 
did,  immersed,  consciously  immersed,  in 
the  presence  of  our  Father ;  and  this  rela- 
tion can  be  just  as  real  and  tender  as  that 
between  me  and  my  boy.  I  am  speaking 
out  of  my  own  experience  now;  I  know 
what  I  am  talking  about. 

I  could  construct  a  theistic  argument. 
I  think  I  could  satisfy  your  intellects,  and 
prove  that  we  are  being  made  in  God's 
image,  that  all  that  draws  us  toward  bet- 
ter things  is  God's  life  in  us.  I  think  I 
could  prove  this.  I  have  done  it  for 
myself;  I  think  I  could  do  it  for  you. 
But  it  would  still  leave  you  unsatisfied. 
You  do  not  care  to  know  that  God  is  love 


44  In  Terms  of  Life. 

so  much  as  you  want  to  love  God.  I  am 
not  appealing  to  your  intellects  this  morn- 
ing so  much  as  to  your  affections. 

Leave  the  attributes  of  God, —  law, 
power,  eternity,  wisdom, —  leave  those 
three  great  impersonal  omnis — omnipres- 
ent, omnipotent,  and  omniscient — to  your 
intellect,  and  love  God  with  your  whole 
heart  at  the  same  time  you  are  loving  your 
neighbors.  Do  not  think  that  you  must 
master  a  whole  theological  system  before 
you  can  commune  with  God.  You  talked 
with  your  father,  you  called  on  him  for 
help,  you  worked  with  him  and  tried  to 
be  like  him  long  before  you  could  spell 
his  name  or  comprehend  his  charac- 
ter. The  understanding  comes  after  the 
fact. 

Let  me  choose  out  of  your  lives  some 
of  the  real  things,  and  ask  you  to  interpret 
them  as  I  do  in  my  own  life.  In  the  first 
place,  let  us  consider  love.  I  choose  this 
because  the  deepest,  tenderest  experiences 
of  life  are  associated  with  it.  The  best 
things  that  have  come  to  you  have  been 
brought  by  love,  and  you  recognize  your- 
self at  your  best  when  you  are  loving. 


"Our  Father."  45 

Do  you  remember  some  time  when  you 
were  in  trouble,  Avhen  perhaps  you  went 
near  to  the  brink  of  the  valley  of  shadows, 
when  your  arm  needed  strength  and  your 
heart  sympathy '?  And  do  you  remem- 
ber how  they  came  ?  How  strong  hands 
gripped  yours,  how  hearty  words  of  cheer 
drove  out  your  loneliness,  how  little  acts 
multiplied,  until  you  were  surrounded 
by  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercies? 
We  call  this  friendship.  It  is  God  abroad 
in  his  world.  He  that  hath  seen  a  friend 
hath  seen  God  also.  Do  you  remember 
those  broken  days  of  childhood,  when 
you  in  many  moods  mixed  good  and  bad 
in  the  mosaic  of  your  growing  life? 
When  you  were  thoughtless,  there  was 
one  who  never  forgot;  wrhen  you  were 
wrong,  there  was  one  who  was  always 
kind;  when  you  were  in  tears,  there  was 
one  who  wept  with  you;  when  you  re- 
joiced, there  was  one  who  was  glad.  You 
call  this  sacred  friend  "  Mother."  Is  it 
possible  that  any  of  you  have  known  a 
mother's  love  and  yet  know  not  God? 
He  that  hath  seen  a  mother  hath  seen 
God  also. 


46  In  Terms  of  Life. 

Or  take,  for  illustration,  service:  iden- 
tifying our  lives  with  the  lives  of  our 
fellows  and  doing  for  them.  As  you  have 
seen  wretchedness  and  misery  or  suffer- 
ing, has  your  stronger  nature  been  drawn 
out  to  help  and  soothe  until  you  have 
forgotten,  perhaps,  your  own  ease  and 
comfort  in  your  sympathy  for  another's 
pain  and  sorrow?  Thank  your  God 
for  manifesting  himself  through  you. 
These  aspirations  to  help  another  are 
the  God-life  in  you.  He  that  has  felt 
sympathy  and  served  his  fellows  has 
known  God  and  manifested  him. 

And  these  yearnings  for  better  things, 
this  longing  for  more  life  for  yourself 
and  more  happiness  for  others,  this  is 
the  beginning  of  prayer, —  inarticulate, 
dumb  prayer,  no  doubt  it  often  is,- — but 
cultivate  it,  give  expression  to  it,  and  you 
will  find  yourself  depending  more  and 
more  on  the  sure  return  that  comes 
from  every  aspiration  that  rises  toward 
your  Heavenly  Father.  Prayer  is  an 
art  to  be  cultivated.  Men  learn  to  talk 
to  the  Father  as  they  learn  to  speak 
to  one  another.  And  men  learn  to  listen 


"Our  Father."  47 

after  they  have  learned  to  speak  —  to 
recognize  and  receive  answers  long  after 
they  have  commenced  to  beg. 

My  friends,  this  is  holy  ground.  Let 
me  lead  you  reverently  into  my  holy  of 
holies  and  declare  out  of  my  daily  expe- 
rience that  God  hears  and  satisfies;  that 
through  these  many  channels,  through 
friends  and  children  and  home,  through 
those  that  give  and  those  who  receive, 
through  the  quiet  breeze  that  blows  after 
the  heated  day,  through  the  triumph  of 
righteousness  and  the  pain  of  sin, — 
through  all  of  these  channels  God  speaks 
and  reveals  more  and  more  of  himself. 
And  when  I  need  him  —  and  that  is  very 
often  —  my  cry  is  heard,  and  in  some  good 
way  answered.  Through  these  same  chan- 
nels, by  some  of  his  many  messengers, 
the  answer  comes.  I  am  not  always  sat- 
isfied, for  I  want  many  things,  but  I  am 
never  deserted  or  allowed  to  feel  alone 
if  I  wish  the  Father's  presence. 

Ye  men  of  Stanford,  I  perceive  that  in 
all  things  you  are  somewhat  religious. 
But  you  have  reasoned  about  God's 
power  and  have  studied  his  laws  until 


48  In  Terms  of  Life. 

you  have  ceased  to  feel  your  likeness  to 
him,  and  have  written  over  your  altar 
the  inscription,  "To  the  unknown  God." 
And  the  altar  bears  no  sacrifice.  What, 
therefore,  ye  worship  as  agnostics,  declare 
I  unto  you,  the  God  that  made  the  world 
and  all  things  therein,  he,  being  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,  giveth  to  all  life  and 
breath  and  all  good  things,  and  is  not  far 
from  each  one  of  us.  For  in  him  we 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being.  When 
man  loves  and  serves,  it  is  the  child  en- 
deavoring to  be  like  its  father.  When 
man  longs  for  greater,  nobler,  truer 
things,  it  is  the  son  recognizing  his  rela- 
tion to  the  Parent. 

Out  of  your  lives  take  the  love  and 
sympathy,  the  purity,  the  truth,  the 
tender  things,  and  all  that  grows  into 
larger  life,  and  put  these  on  the  cold 
altar  of  your  heart;  then  cut  out  those 
empty,  lonely  words,  "To  an  unknown 
God,"  and  write  "Our  Father."  And 
bow  before  him ;  for  this  is  your  God, 
and  he  will  not  withhold  any  good  thing 
from  you  if  you  walk  uprightly. 


"Our  Father."  49 

Oft  in  the  dusty  coui-se  it  seems 
The  face  of  Him  I  am  to  meet 
Is  dimmed  before  my  straining  eyes; 
And  silence  answers  to  my  cries — 
Silence  and  doubt  my  questions  greet. 

Yet,  pressing  onward  to  my  goal, 
Some  breeze  will  blow  the  dust  apart. 
'T  is  dust  my  feet  have  raised  that  hides 
The  Father's  smile  that  e'er  abides. 
The  dust  has  changed,  but  not  His  Heart. 

The  silence  is  my  ignorance 
When  reason  seeks  Him  to  define. 
Life's  mysteries  are  solved  by  life 
And  doubts  that  rise  in  anxious  strife 
Before  the  Love  of  God  decline. 

We  seek  in  wordy  phrase  to  paint 
The  Unknown  God  to  finite  eyes. 
Our  logic  kills  our  charity, 
Our  wisdom  widens  mystery, 
Our  altars  bear  no  sacrifice. 

Yet  to  the  listening  ear  God  speaks 
In  myriad  tongues  on  sea  and  shore, 
In  childish  prattle,  mothers'  songs, 
When  prophets  cry  against  men's  wrongs, 

Or  love  knocks  at  some  prison  door. 
D 


50  In  Terms  of  Life. 

Faith  born  of  love  and  fed  by  hope 
Sees  God  where  reason's  eye  is  dim, 
And  reason  led  by  faith  will  prove 
So  strong  that  doubts  can  never  move, 
Nor  clouds  disturb  our  trust  in  Him. 

Then  courage,  fainting  one,  take  heart; 
Thy  God  in  clouds  hides  not  His  face, 
The  veil  is  thine,  thine  is  the  fear, 
Withhold  thy  cries,  list  to  his  cheer, 
And  onward  press,  fed  by  His  grace. 


OUR    RELIGION 


OUR    RELIGION. 

I  HAVE  recently  read  what  was  intended 
to  be  a  criticism  of  the  religious  life  of 
the  University.  It  was  written  by  one 
who  evidently  never  graced  the  quad- 
rangle with  his  presence  or  endangered 
his  morality  by  listening  to  the  lectures 
he  stigmatized.  Among  his  strictures 
were:  "  Confidently  putting  forth,  as  sub- 
stitutes for  religious  belief,  rank  agnos- 
ticism and  Darwinianism," — "Belittling 
and  often  irreverent  use  of  the  Scrip- 
tures,"—  "Evolution  theories  run  wild," 
—  "Elimination  of  the  supernatural,  and 
making  natural  science  superior  to  reve- 
lation," etc. 

It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  we  were  made 
to  share  these  sins  with  the  State  Uni- 
versity, and  that  the  article  was  written 
to  persuade  young  men  to  go  to  another 
college,  where  they  would  not  be  exposed 
to  such  temptations,  and  where,  as  one  of 


54  In  Terms  of  Life. 

them  is  quoted  as  saying,  "he  could  be 
a  Christian,  when  he  couldn't  be  one  at 
home." 

I  mention  these  criticisms  not  because 
I  am  going  to  attempt  to  show  that  they 
are  not  true,  nor  because  I  think  it  neces- 
sary to  answer  them.  I  think  it  well  to 
know  what  is  said  of  us.  It  helps  us  to 
prove  the  standards  we  have  chosen  to 
live  by.  Moreover,  I  wish  to  warn  you 
against  the  possible  danger  of  trying  to 
live  up  to  our  bad  reputation.  I  have 
noticed  that  a  small  boy,  told  that  he  is 
a  "bad  boy,"  is  apt  to  bristle  with  extem- 
porized proofs  of  the  truthfulness  of  your 
statement.  And  I  have  noticed,  too,  that 
men  enjoy  being  called  skeptics  and  here- 
tics, and  in  these  happy  times,  when  there 
is  no  danger  from  faggot  or  rack,  a  certain 
kind  of  heresy  is  rampant,  from  motives 
that  seem  akin  to  those  that  actuate  a 
rampant  peacock. 

For  those  who  see  in  our  Darwinian- 
ism  deviltry,  and  who  call  our  science 
rank  agnosticism,  there  is  but  one  answer: 
Let  us  make  this  altar  the  center  and 
source  from  which  true  men  and  women 


Our  Religion.  55 

shall  go  into  the  world  to  live  the  pure, 
true  life  that  Christ  led.  Let  us  multi- 
ply helping  hands  and  fit  men  to  save 
their  fellows  in  the  wasteful  battle  of  life. 

There  [pointing  to  picture  of  Christ] 
is  our  ideal, —  a  man  who  dared  live  true, 
though  he  was  called  heretic  and  traitor 
and  devil;  who  lived  his  simple,  human, 
godlike  life,  though  his  church  excom- 
municated him,  his  friends  deserted  him, 
his  people  killed  him;  and  who  stands 
to-day  with  one  hand  on  our  Father's 
throne  and  one  on  the  pulse  of  human- 
ity,—  our  hero,  our  ideal,  our  Saviour. 
Let  us  live  his  life  among  men,  and  they 
will  stop  talking  about  us  and  worship 
him. 

But  while  we  are  none  of  these  bad 
things  that  good  people  in  their  igno- 
rance call  us,  there  is  that  about  the  Uni- 
versity which  makes  the  four  years  you 
spend  here  a  danger  period  in  your  lives. 
We  are  not  so  bad  as  we  are  painted,  and 
yet  from  the  standpoint  of  certain  people 
we  are  a  great  deal  worse  than  they 
dream  us  to  be. 

In  the    first   place,   we   think   here,— 


56  In  Terms  of  Life. 

think  about  things  that  are  never  ques- 
tioned in  some  places.  Thinking  is  a 
dangerous  pastime;  try  it  carefully  and 
see.  Many  things  that  we  imagined  we 
believed  will  not  stand  the  test  of  thought. 
You  will  realize,  as  you  never  did  before, 
the  danger  of  accepting  things  without 
thinking,  of  not  proving  all  things.  You 
will  find  that  you  have  been  holding  fast 
to  much  that  is  not  good.  It  will  cost 
you  time  and  many  heartaches  to  transfer 
your  allegiance  from  external  idols  and 
images  to  internal  convictions.  But  when 
you  have  accomplished  it,  you  will  think 
it  worth  all  it  cost.  Men  who  have  found 
themselves  have  found  their  God;  they 
live  like  the  stars,  shining  by  their  own 
living  light. 

"  Unaffrighted  by  the  silence  round  them, 

Undistracted  by  the  sights  they  see, 
These  demand  not  that  the  things  without 

them 
Yield  them  love,  amusement,  sympathy. 

"  And   with    joy  the    stars    perform    their 

shining 
And  the  sea  its  long  moon-silvered  roll, 


Our  Religion.  57 

For  self-poised  they   live,  nor  pine  with 

noting 
All  the  fever  of  some  differing  soul." 


In  the  next  place,  we  are  separated 
here  from  real  living  —  isolated.  We  are 
receiving,  and  not  giving.  Even  the  best 
education  has  in  it  this  element  of  inac- 
tivity which  leads  to  a  certain  kind  of 
degeneration  of  a  part  of  our  nature 
while  we  are  developing  and  training 
another.  A  man  is  only  safe  when  he  is 
giving  himself  to  others.  This  is  a  period 
of  accumulation.  It  is  an  expensive  pro- 
cess. It  costs  more  than  the  money 
necessary  to  pay  our  board-bills  and  buy 
our  books.  It  costs  a  part  of  our  power 
of  giving.  The  unused  function  of  giv- 
ing weakens  and  would  disappear  if  we 
stayed  as  students  too  long.  It  will 
return  when  we  get  to  work  among  men 
again.  But  we  do  not  always  recognize, 
as  we  should,  that  we  get  out  of  relation- 
ship with  our  fellows  during  this  time  of 
preparation  for  better  work  among  them. 

I  have  heard  people  mourn  because 
students  lose  their  enthusiasm  for  reli- 


58  In  Terms  of  Life. 

gious  work  while  at  college.  It  is  una- 
voidable. And  no  student  should  write 
himself  down  as  a  backslider  because  he 
cares  more  for  his  themes  than  he  does 
for  his  committee  work  in  Christian  En- 
deavor. You  cannot  grind  your  ax  and 
chop  with  it  at  the  same  time.  I  have 
noticed  that  farmers  lose  their  enthusiasm 
for  the  plow  when  sitting  at  the  dinner- 
table.  But  when  digestion  has  waited 
on  appetite  the  plow  regains  its  charms. 
Let  us  use  our  common  sense  here.  You 
are  preparing  for  life;  you  are  not  living. 
I  have  heard  some  of  you  pray  that  your 
waning  interest  in  religious  work  might 
be  revived,  and  this  while  you  are  strug- 
gling with  fifteen  or  eighteen  hours  of 
university  work.  Your  business  here  is 
to  study,  to  religiously  study,  to  study 
Greek  or  history  or  science,  in  order  that 
you  may  do  better  religious  work  when 
you  go  out.  To  try  to  maintain  your  effi- 
ciency in  Christian  Endeavor  or  church 
work  while  you  are  at  the  same  time  try- 
ing to  train  yourself  for  living  is  to  make 
a  jack  of  all  trades  of  yourself  and  a 
master  of  none. 


Our  Religion.  59 

But  be  careful  here.  Do  not  allow 
yourself  to  think  that  you  are  ceasing  to 
be  religious  because  you  are  giving  less 
time  to  prayer-meetings  and  more  to  lec- 
tures and  laboratories.  The  study  of 
God's  works  at  any  time  —  providing  they 
are  recognized  and  studied  as  the  works 
of  God  —  is  religion.  David  was  as  reli- 
gious when  he  lay  among  his  flocks  and 
saw  that  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of 
God,  as  when  he  was  chopping  up  Philis- 
tines, or  asking  God  to  destroy  his  ene- 
mies. I  would  like  to  wipe  out  this 
misleading  conception,  still  fostered  by 
some  who  should  condemn  it,  that  certain 
occupations  are  sacred,  and  others  are 
secular,  and  therefore  profane. 

Nothing  that  a  clean,  pure  man  can  do 
is  unreligious.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  the  highest  duty  you  can  perform 
while  a  student  here  is  to  honestly, 
prayerfully,  and  in  the  fear  of  God,  pile 
up  your  one  hundred  and  twenty  hours 
of  credit  and  keep  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  Committee  on  Doiibtful  Cases.  That 
is  what  you  are  here  for.  If  you  have 
any  time  left  when  you  have  done  this, 


60  In  Terms  of  Life. 

then  work  along  what  you  are  pleased  to 
call  a  distinctively  religious  line,  but  do 
not  write  anathema  after  your  name  if  it 
takes  most  of  your  time  to  keep  up  with 
your  work.  It  makes  little  difference 
what  names  others  call  you.  If  you  are  on 
good  terms  with  yourself  and  your  God, 
rest  there.  Do  not  confine  your  praying 
to  your  closets.  Do  some  of  it  at  the 
study-table,  on  the  athletic  field,  and  in 
the  recitation-room.  It  is  wonderful  how 
much  the  Father  is  concerned  in  all  our 
activity,  if  we  only  open  our  eyes  to  see. 
And  remember  that  a  certain  amount  of 
intellectual  and  spiritual  disorder  is  sure 
to  come  while  you  are  isolated  from  real 
living  in  this  protected  spot  where  the 
opportunities  for  receiving  will  always  be 
greater  than  those  for  giving  out. 

This  disturbance  is  part  of  the  price 
of  your  education.  When  you  are  out 
among  people  again,  the  balance  will  be 
readjusted;  and  if  you  have  been  faithful 
here,  your  devotion  will  welcome  any 
field  of  action  there. 

The  church  and  most  religious  work  is 
not  yet  adjusted  to  college  life.  The 


Our  Religion.  01 

church  is  a  social  institution,  doing  a 
work  among  men  that  no  other  institu- 
tion can  do,  and  it  is  adjusted  to  the 
social  life.  In  proportion  as  our  life 
here  differs  from  the  life  of  the  world, 
then,  are  we  out  of  touch  Avith  the  church. 
It  is  still  necessary  for  a  student  to  take 
a  kind  of  furlough  if  he  Avishes  to  do 
much  Avork  in  any  of  these  organizations, 
Avhich,  neArertheless,  exercise  a  certain 
kind  of  extra-territorial  jurisdiction  over 
his  conscience  and  his  religion.  I  have 
Avorked  in  church  schools  and  state 
schools,  and  those  like  our  OAVU,  Avhich 
are  neither,  and  this  is  true  of  them  all. 
It  will  last  until  the  Church  widens 
her  definition  of  service  to  include  those 
who  study  God's  Avorks,  and  until  the 
school  recognizes  Avorship  as  a  part  of 
its  legitimate  exercise. 

I  have  one  other  thought,  and  it  con- 
cerns us  all,  students,  and  teachers,  and 
friends.  I  refer  to  the  tendency  AVC  share 
in  common  with  all  great  educational 
institutions  of  our  time,  to  emphasize  the 
intellectual  and  suppress  the  emotional 
side  of  our  natures. 


62  In  Terms  of  Life. 

A  wise  man  said  many  years  ago  that 
faith  without  works  is  dead.  He  meant 
that  a  religious  life  that  did  not  bear 
fruit  in  good  deeds  was  no  life  at  all,  and 
not  religious.  A  recognition  of  this, 
and  the  overdevelopment  of  the  sterily 
emotional  side  of  religion,  has  led  many 
thoughtful  people  to  turn  away  from  the 
religious  organization  and  to  welcome  the 
increasing  opportunities  for  social  ser- 
vice. The  new  science  of  sociology  has 
set  people  to  thinking  about  methods,  to 
talking  about  service,  and  to  seeking  for 
ways  of  helping  their  fellows.  I  think 
this  longing  to  be  of  use  to  their  fellows 
is  stronger  among  men  than  ever  before. 
The  fact  that  the  churches  still  give  more 
attention  to  man's  future  condition  and 
less  to  the  present  adds  to  this  diver- 
gence. There  are  hundreds  of  people 
to-day  who  are  doing  splendid  work  for 
their  fellows,  helping  them  to  larger, 
more  abundant  life,  who  hardly  ever 
enter  a  church  or  feel  the  need  of  its 
services. 

Now,  here  is  a  serious  danger.  Reli- 
gion has  in  it  two  elements, —  one  is  wor- 


Our  Religion.  63 

ship,  the  other  is  service, —  a  God  side 
and  a  man  side.  It  is  possible  for  men 
to  give  so  much  time  to  the  God  side  of 
religion  —  to  worship,  to  praying,  to  div- 
ing into  the  heavenly  depths  for  beatific 
visions  —  that  they  become  absolutely 
useless  to  their  fellows.  Most  of  you 
will  grant  this,  because  this  tendency  is 
what  most  of  you  criticise  in  the  churches. 
Now,  I  wish  to  make  another  statement. 
It  is  possible  for  men  to  become  so  me- 
thodical and  intellectual  in  the  service  of 
their  fellows  that  they  lose  the  power  of 
sympathy  and  love.  Service  to  our  fel- 
lows alone  is  not  religion  any  more  than 
slavish  toil  is  love.  Religion  engages  the 
affections  of  men.  It  unites  us  to  our 
fellows,  not  because  it  is  a  dictum  of 
sociology  to  be  altruistic,  but  because  we 
love  them  as  ourselves. 

Now,  love  is  the  ground  common  to 
God  and  man.  Love  is  where  they  meet, 
—  the  only  place  where  they  can  meet 
face  to  face, —  just  as  a  mother  and  child 
meet  and  understand  each  other  on  the 
common  plane  of  their  mutual  love.  On 
this  plane  the  mother  shares  her  larger 


64  In  Terms  of  Life. 

life  according  to  the  child's  capacity: 
that  is  her  beneficence;  and  on  this  plane 
the  child  yields  allegiance  to  the  ideal 
she  partially  sees  in  the  parent  above 
her :  this  is  her  worship. 

Suppose  there  are  other  children  in  the 
family.  Their  mutual  love  and  service 
and  homage  to  the  kind  one  above  them, 
combined  with  parental  care  and  sympa- 
thy, make  that  incarnation  of  heaven  on 
earth  —  a  home.  A  house,  a  mere  house 
where  people  bearing  the  same  name  sit 
down  to  eat  together  three  times  a  day, 
where  service  is  rendered  from  policy  or 
duty  or  pay,  is  not  a  home  —  just  a 
boarding-house.  It  takes  love  to  make 
a  home.  And  in  just  the  same  way  it 
takes  love  to  make  any  part  of  this  uni- 
verse heaven.  For  love  is  self-surrender, 
and  religion  includes  this  element  of  self- 
surrender.  Just  as  love  unites  the  parent 
and  child  and  leads  to  union  and  co- 
operation and  fellowship,  so  love  unites 
God  and  man,  and  this  union  is  a  vital 
element  in  religion. 

It  includes  worship,  because  it  looks 
up  to  a  higher  power  and  seeks  to  fellow- 


Our  Religion.  65 

ship  with  it.  Morality  and  duty  are  both 
included,  but  they  are  swallowed  up  by 
love.  But  the  great  vitalizing  element 
that  gives  strength  to  faith  and  life  to 
duty  is  the  consciousness  that  God  is 
working  with  us  as  we  serve  our  fellows, 
and  that  we  can  love  him.  Now,  those 
of  you  who  are  serving  your  fellows  are 
only  claiming  one  half  of  your  reward, 
unless  you  are  conscious  of  fellowship 
with  the  Father  in  your  service.  You  are 
as  a  servant  in  the  family  where  you 
might  be  a  child. 

This  is  one  of  the  dangers  of  student 
life — to  substitute  sociology,  or,  worse 
still,  ethics,  for  religion.  Sociology  is 
not  religion  any  more  than  the  study  of 
tactics  is  war.  The  soldier  does  not  gain 
confidence  .and  trust  in  his  commander 
by  studying  the  rules  of  war.  After  be- 
ing led  to  victory  after  victory  he  gains 
that  reverence  for  his  leader  which,  com- 
bined with  his  study  and  drill  (that  is, 
his  sociology  and  ethics)  and  with  his 
experience,  makes  him  invincible.  So 
we,  working  together  with  God  in  the 
regeneration  of  this  world,  gain  that 


66  In  Terms  of  Life. 

personal  relation  to  him  which  gives 
meaning  to  our  work  and  inspiration  to 
our  lives. 

Let  us,  then,  worship  God;  as  we  love 
our  neighbors  as  ourselves,  let  us  also 
love  God  with  all  our  heart  and  soul  and 
mind. 

Sympathy  is  shallow  unless  combined 
with  reverence ;  works  are  but  temporal 
unless  nurtured  by  faith  in  the  eternal ; 
service  is  tiring  unless  fed  by  worship ; 
and  man  is  an  enigma  unless  he  knows 
God. 


NEW    WINE    AND    OLD 
BOTTLES 


NEW  WINE  AND  OLD  BOTTLES. 

WHAT  is  our  greatest  danger?  Per- 
haps it  is  the  danger  of  failing  to  live 
true.  I  do  not  mean  hypocrisy, —  that  is 
acting  a  lie, —  but  the  failure  to  put  into 
action  what  we  are. 

Here  is  a  common  saying:  "This  is 
my  ideal;  I  confess  I  do  not  live  up  to  it." 
And  this  often  means,  "I  do  not  try."  If 
I  were  talking  to  students  of  zoology  I 
would  say  that  the  presence  of  any  power 
or  organ  means  that  it  is  being  used;  its 
disappearance  means  that  it  is  being 
neglected.  All  the  symmetrical  forms 
and  all  the  grotesque  and  one-sided  forms 
are  the  products  of  this  law.  And  we  are 
under  this  law.  Its  action  is  rapid  in  the 
immaterial  world.  The  removal  of  unde- 
sirable things,  and  the  making  permanent 
of  good  things,  are  never  to  be  regretted; 
but  by  failing  to  live  our  ideals,  we  lose 
the  best  part  of  ourselves. 


70  In  Terms  of  Life. 

We  hear  much  in  this  place  about  the 
dangers  that  threaten  the  young  in  the 
University.  Parents  and  friends  anx- 
iously watch  the  changes  that  come,  and 
fear  the  end.  College  life  means  meta- 
morphosis, and  each  stage  is  fraught  with 
danger.  Those  who  anxiously  watch  the 
process  wonder  how  it  is  possible  to  get 
an  image  of  a  man  from  the  grotesque 
forms  that  sometimes  masquerade  as 
youth.  Of  course,  the  man  comes,  in 
most  cases.  College  life  is  not  a  failure, 
though  it  is  far  from  the  success  it 
might  be.  The  intellectual  and  spiritual 
birth-rate  exceeds  the  death-rate.  Few 
fail  utterly;  few  succeed  in  any  great  de- 
gree; but  the  balance  is  on  the  side  of 
success. 

When  a  young  man  enters  college  most 
of  his  standards  are  external.  Few  of 
those  who  come  here  have  lived  long 
enough  to  accumulate  much  experience. 
The  training  of  early  years  gives  a  trend 
which  none  of  us  are  strong  enough  to 
overcome  completely,  even  when  we  rec- 
ognize its  desirability.  Our  opinions,  our 
beliefs,  our  bias  in  social  and  political 


New  Wine  and  Old  Bottles.     71 

and  intellectual  questions  are  derived 
from  our  parents  far  more  completely 
than  our  forms  and  features.  It  is  per- 
haps the  knowledge  of  this  fact  that  adds 
to  the  solicitude  of  parents  when  they 
send  their  children  away  from  home. 
They  know  what  the  student  does  not 
find  out  until  later, —  that  this  training  has 
never  been  tested  by  the  one  whom  it 
most  concerns,  that  the  standards  are 
external,  and  that  opinions  are  not  yet 
convictions. 

Now,  it  is  here,  during  this  period  of 
intellectual  living,  that  the  change  comes 
in  our  attitude  toward  our  standards  of 
living.  Heretofore  we  have  lived  as 
others  directed  or  influenced.  We  are 
here  to  acquire  the  power  of  directing 
ourselves.  Impulse  and  feeling  and  emo- 
tion must  here  acquire  some  rational 
basis.  Up  to  this  time  they  have  been 
the  spontaneous  fruits  of  our  living. 
Heretofore  we  have  acted  because  we 
felt  like  it;  now  we  must  know  why  we 
act. 

This  analytical  process  destroys  much 
of  our  power  of  doing.  By  the  time  we 


72  In  Terms  of  Life. 

have  studied  our  steam  to  find  what  it  is, 
it  has  become  cold  water.  By  the  time 
we  have  thought  much  about  the  emo- 
tional and  impulsive  religious  life  which 
we  have  led,  the  emotion  is  all  gone,  or 
it  may  be  that  it  is  displaced  by  another. 
Cold  water  that  has  once  been  steam  is 
insipid  and  somewhat  disgusting.  And 
so  a  religious  life  that  has  cooled  down 
from  emotionalism  into  rationalism  often 
gives  its  owner  a  feeling  akin  to  nausea. 
Some  of  the  hardest  words  I  have  ever 
heard  spoken  against  religion  have  come 
from  those  who  at  one  time  were  enthu- 
siastically religious.  Some  new  wine  has 
been  poured  into  old  bottles  and  turned 
sour. 

Our  beliefs  grow  up  with  us.  They  are 
not  entirely,  not  even  largely,  a  matter  of 
the  intellect.  They  are  part  of  our  breed- 
ing and  of  our  living.  Many  of  our 
reasons  for  things  are  inherited  from  our 
parents.  We  do  not  alwrays  understand 
how  they  are  constructed.  Like  a  child 
who  has  received  a  watch,  we  play  with  it 
and  break  it,  but  cannot  mend  it.  Many 
people  think  children  ought  not  to  play 


New  Wine  and  Old  Bottles.      73 

with  watches.  They  are  for  older  people. 
In  the  same  way  many  people  think  that 
children  should  not  play  with  reason,  or 
meddle  with  the  carefully  constructed 
thought-systems  of  their  fathers.  They 
want  them  to  take  these  systems,  use 
them,  ca.ll  them  their  own,  but  dread  the 
analyzing  spirit  that  may  try  to  find  how 
the  thing  is  made,  and  so  spoil  it. 

Many  fathers  and  mothers  say  to  me, 
"  If  my  boy  will  only  hold  on  to  the  fun- 
damentals" They  are  afraid  that  the 
business  of  the  University  is  to  overthrow 
fundamentals.  As  if  fundamentals  could 
be  overthrown  !  What  they  mean  by  fun- 
damentals is  their  own  conception  of  the 
truth,  the  basis  of  their  own  belief.  They 
want  their  boys  to  wear  their  clothes, — 
not  the  same  style  only,  but  the  iden- 
tical clothes, —  with  all  the  creases  and 
wrinkles  and  patches  in  place.  Now,  the 
wrinkles  and  creases  represent  experi- 
ence and  testing,  and  the  patches  are  the 
scars  —  honorable  scars  of  victory.  And 
I  have  no  patience  with  the  sophomoric 
spirit  which  vaunts  its  reason  and  throws 
into  the  rag-bag  everything  that  the 


74  In  Terms  of  Life. 

fathers  believed.  We  would  not  be  here 
to-day  if  our  fathers  had  not  believed 
very  close  to  the  truth.  However  far 
afield  we  may  go  in  our  young  and  cal- 
low days,  the  larger  part  of  us  will  be 
found  revamping  the  old  beliefs  of  our 
fathers  and  mothers  when  we  go  to  work 
on  the  world.  I  have  taught  long  enough 
to  know  that  this  is  true.  But  the  time 
comes  when  the  child  becomes  the  man, 
when  he  must  know  how  his  watch  is  made, 
even  if  it  costs  him  several  watches  to  find 
out, —  the  information  is  worth  several 
watches.  The  time  comes  when  he  finds 
himself  asking,  "  Why  do  I  believe  this  ? 
Why  do  I  practice  this?"  And  because 
he  cannot  at  once  find  a  reason  that  will 
satisfy,  many  of  the  things  he  has  be- 
lieved all  his  life  in  common  with  his 
father  will  be  laid  on  the  shelf  until  the 
experiences  of  life  lay  a  foundation  for 
them  again.  Then  they  will  be  taken 
down.  He  will  cease  to  do  many  of  the 
things  he  has  customarily  done,  because 
he  finds  that  they  are  not  the  natural 
fruit  of  his  life.  It  seems  like  hypocrisy 
to  do  them,  even  for  the  sake  of  father 


New  Wine  and  Old  Bottles.      75 

and  mother.  I  have  letters  and  figures 
from  some  hundreds  of  students  that 
show  me  that  eighty -five  per  cent,  of 
them  take  up  their  old  practices  again 
when  their  real  living  seeks  expression. 
But  there  is  nothing  unnatural  or  very 
alarming  to  me  in  the  suspension  of  reli- 
gious activity,  which  is  common  among 
young  men  and  women  at  the  University. 
It  is  one  of  the  penalties  we  pay  for  our 
isolation.  Student  life  is  not  real  life. 
It  is  a  dangerous  period, —  all  climacteric 
periods  are  dangerous.  But  they  seem 
to  be  part  of  the  plan  of  God's  world. 
This  suspension  is  only  temporary.  It  is 
largely  due  to  the  confusion  of  change 
and  readjustment;  to  the  transfer  of  alle- 
giance from  authority  to  self.  The  change 
rarely  comes  without  confusion,  but  it 
must  come,  and  when  it  is  complete  it  is 
worth  all  it  costs.  A  little  bit  of  real 
living  will  bring  back  the  enthusiasm 
and  emotion,  and  no  one  can  be  faithful 
and  true  to  his  ideals  without  finding 
God  displacing  them  with  himself.  Much 
as  I  sympathize,  therefore,  with  the  more 
or  less  painful  processes  of  change,  I  do 


76  In  Terms  of  Life. 

not  regard  the  change  itself  as  the  great- 
est danger  that  threatens  the  young  man 
or  woman  here.  It  must  come,  and  this 
is  the  natural  time  for  it  to  come. 

To  the  one  who  looks  in  vain  among 
his  books  and  notes  for  the  old  standards 
by  which  he  shaped  his  life,  I  would  say, 
"  They  are  not  there.  You  are  here  to 
study  tools  and  methods,  and  this  study 
fills  a  large  part  of  your  life.  But  the 
study  of  tools  and  methods  and  the  filing 
of  your  wits  will  neither  give  you  the 
glow  of  exercise  nor  the  emotions  of  liv- 
ing ;  nor  will  study  about  God  ever  give 
you  the  confidence  that  working  with  him 
gives."  As  students  our  position  is  ab- 
normal. We  get  more  than  we  give. 
When  you  resume  your  place  in  the 
world,  life  will  bring  back  the  emotion 
you  think  you  have  lost,  and  clear  up  all 
the  doubts  that  now  seem  so  great.  We 
all  face  the  danger  of  mistaking  the  form 
in  which  the  truth  was  clothed  for  the 
truth  itself. 

Calvinism  and  Arminianism  are  trifling 
matters  compared  with  the  fact  that  God 
is  and  that  we  may  call  him  our  Father. 


New  Wine  and  Old  Bottles.     77 

Unitariauism,  Triuitarianism  are  mere 
word-quibbles  compared  with  the  fact 
that  the  spirit  of  Christ  is  in  the  world, 
saving  it.  These  things  are  not  funda- 
mental. They  are  what  many  mean  by 
essential  and  fundamental,  but  they  are 
only  terms,  forged  by  human  intellects  to 
express  one  phase  of  the  truth  as  it  ap- 
peared to  them.  There  will  be  some 
astonished  people  who  reach  heaven  and 
find  that  Christ  was  neither  Methodist  nor 
Presbyterian,  Calviuist  nor  Arminian  — 
that  he  cared  for  none  of  these  things 
except  as  they  hampered  and  hindered 
those  who  believed  them  instead  of  be- 
lieving him,  who  worshiped  them  instead 
of  using  them  to  serve  him. 

Many  of  you  are  now  in  a  period  of 
change.  Well  that  it  should  come  during 
the  isolation  of  your  college  days.  You 
will  never  have  so  much  time  to  settle 
things  as  now ;  yet  you  will  find  that  you 
can  settle  very  few.  Have  confidence  in 
yourself.  Trust  your  nerves  to  tell  the 
truth,  unless  you  have  been  abusing  them. 
Some  state  this  another  way,  and  say, 


78  In  Terms  of  Life. 

"  Trust  in  God."  I  mean  the  same  thing. 
Be  sure  that  you  believe,  and  do  not 
hold  a  mere  opinion.  To  define  is  not 
belief;  experience  gives  belief. 

God  and  righteousness  and  Christ, 
miracles  and  immortality,  fatherhood  and 
brotherhood,  sin  and  redemption,  these 
are  not  theological  words,  though  many 
theologies  have  been  written  about  them. 
All  are  facts  of  experience,  and  as  facts 
they  all  touch  our  lives  in  some  way. 
Our  touch  with  them  is  our  knowledge  of 
them.  But  do  you  not  see  it?  We  can- 
not talk  about  them  and  compare  notes 
about  them  without  changing  our  ideas 
of  them  and  modifying  our  definitions. 

Many  think  it  impossible  to  separate 
these  things  from  the  philosophy  about 
them,  wicked  to  try.  We  must  try.  We 
will  ask  Christ  and  history  and  literature 
and  life  what  they  say  about  these  great 
facts.  When  we  get  their  answers,  for 
they  all  speak  of  them,  we  will  probably 
construct  another  philosophy  in  place  of 
the  old.  It  will  seem  better  to  us  than 
the  old,  though  perhaps  not  very  differ- 
ent, because  it  expresses  things  that  we 


New  Wine  and  Old  Bottles.     79 

believe,  not  what  we  have  been  told  to 
believe. 

Believe  iii  yourself.  If  a  statement  or 
a  fact  appeals  to  you  as  true,  believe  it. 
Be  your  own  authority.  Bottle  your  own 
wine.  Friends  will  stand  around  with 
old  bottles  and  beg  you  to  put  your  new 
wine  in  them.  They  are  wrong  in  asking, 
and  you  are  wrong  to  try.  Your  new 
wine  needs  aging.  It  must  be  worked 
over  and  must  swell  up  and  settle  down 
and  be  tested  to  see  if  it  is  worth  any- 
thing before  it  can  be  put  in  anything 
but  a  new,  elastic  bottle.  Bottle  it  for 
yourself.  It  is  the  best  wine  in  the 
world  for  you.  Perhaps  when  it  has 
aged  it  will  be  just  like  that  in  the  old 
bottles,  but  you  must  cling  to  it  as  it  is. 
It  is  yours. 

So  I  ask  you  not  to  be  afraid  of  the  fruit 
of  your  own  thoughts.  We  here  study 
together  these  great  truths  of  life, — 
God  and  Christ  and  man,  sin  and  life 
and  death  and  immortality.  It  is  far  more 
important  that  you  should  be  sincere  with 
yourself  than  that  you  should  believe 
something  that  somebody  has  told  you. 


80  In  Terms  of  Life. 

There  is  no  final  test  of  truth  but  this 
one  —  its  appeal  to  our  lives.  Coleridge 
says  somewhere  that  the  pre-eminence  of 
the  Bible  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  finds  us. 
By  this  test  judge  all  truth, —  does  it 
find  you  ?  Do  not  wait  to  reason  it  out. 
The  fundamentals,  the  real  fundamentals 
—  the  basis  of  all  belief  —  cannot  be 
reasoned  out. 

The  fatherhood  of  God,  the  divinity  of 
man,  the  reality  of  righteousness,  the 
spiritual  life,  immortality,  the  ideality  of 
Christ, —  these  are  some  of  the  funda- 
mentals. We  apprehend  them.  Just  as 
we  get  up  in  the  morning  and  throw  open 
the  blinds  and  know  that  the  sun  is  there, 
so  these  great  facts  appeal  to  us  when  we 
squarely  face  them.  But  the  greatest 
danger  that  may  threaten  a  young  man 
or  woman  is  the  failure  to  put  into  action 
the  truth  he  does  believe. 

I  sat  by  the  side  lines  the  other  even- 
ing when  the  ball  was  driven  almost  to 
my  feet,  and  those  twenty-two  demons 
whose  breathing  nearly  burst  their  can- 
vas sides  stood  puffing  a  moment  before 
they  sprang  at  each  other's  throats.  I 


New  Wine  and  Old  Bottles.      81 

almost  stampeded;  I  did  long  to  be 
one  of  them  again.  But  I  only  sat  and 
shivered  there  on  the  bleachers  with 
another  football  philosopher,  and  we  told 
each  other  how  to  play  the  game. 

A  young  man  said  to  me  the  other 
day,  "I  have  not  been  in  church  for 
three  years."  I  looked  him  over  as  a 
curiosity  and  asked  him  why.  His  reply 
was,  "The  glaring  inconsistencies  of 
church  members  made  me  sick.  I  could 
not  stand  it  and  just  stayed  away."  How 
consistent !  Here  was  such  a  good  church 
member  that  he  never  went  to  church. 
A  man  who  imagined  he  had  an  ideal 
standing  with  his  back  to  it.  Ideals  are 
to  run  races  with.  The  moment  we  stop 
chasing  them  they  sit  down  —  become 
opinions. 

If  the  old  channel  through  which  your 
best  life  flowed  is  filled  up,  find  another 
one.  If  you  cannot  put  your  new  wine 
into  old  bottles,  find  new  ones.  Bottle  it 
or  lose  it.  If  you  cannot  serve  God  and 
man  through  the  church  or  Christian 
Endeavor  because  the  inconsistencies 
there  glare  at  you,  let  your  truth  glare 


82  In  Terms  of  Life. 

somewhere  that  men  seeing  how  consistent 
a  man  can  be,  may  be  led  to  think  how 
true  God  is.  If  you  have  new  light  on 
old  questions,  let  that  light  shine.  If 
you  put  it  under  a  bushel  it  will  go  out. 
"  If  therefore  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be 
darkness,  how  great  is  that  darkness." 

The  time  comes  more  than  once  in  a 
man's  life  when  he  must  know  what  he 
believes,  when  the  truth  that  is  in  his 
own  heart  is  all  that  he  can  find.  But 
no  truth  is  ours  until  we  first  live  it, 
until  it  enters  into  our  lives  and  we 
become  it. 


THANKSGIVING 


THANKSGIVING. 

AT  their  best  the  lives  of  men  are  but 
the  lives  of  children;  God  must  view 
them  as  such.  To  him  our  wisdom  must 
be  foolishness ;  our  strength,  weakness ; 
and  our  best  endeavor  crude  and  incom- 
plete. 

I  have  watched  children  at  their  play. 
Everything  they  do  willingly  is  play; 
they  groan  and  fret  over  things  they  do 
not  like  to  do,  and  make  burdens  of 
them.  But  the  things  they  do  gladly  fill 
their  lives  so  full  they  can  see  nothing 
else,  and  they  leave  undone  many  things 
they  ought  to  do,  and  would  suffer  for 
their  lack  if  loving  hands  did  not  do  for 
them.  All  day  long  they  play,  planning 
much  that  is  never  done  and  doing  much 
they  never  planned,  happy  so  long  as  they 
are  busy,  and  busy  until  sleep  snatches 
them  from  the  midst  of  a  bedtime  romp, 
unconscious  of  their  sleepiness. 


86  In  Terms  of  Life. 

They  may  not  know  that  their  play 
is  directed  and  controlled.  They  think 
little  of  the  love  that  guards  and  guides. 
They  toil  not,  and  yet  they  are  fed ;  they 
spin  not,  and  yet  are  clothed.  Almost 
unconscious  of  the  great  father- and  - 
mother  world,  in  the  midst  of  which 
they  live,  they  know  it  only  where  it 
touches  their  immediate  needs,  or  seems 
to  interfere  with  their  desires.  They 
never  know  how  much  more  they  re- 
ceive than  they  earn,  or  how  much  less 
they  suffer  than  they  deserve.  Love  they 
know,  but  only  its  smiling  face.  They 
have  not  yet  identified  it  with  self- 
sacrifice. 

They  have  their  sorrows;  for  loss  and 
gain,  seed-time  and  harvest  are  never 
separate  from  life,  and  these  sorrows 
seem  very  big,  and  fill  their  whole  world 
full  of  tears.  For,  child-like,  they  do 
not  realize  that  the  tears  are  in  their 
eyes  alone,  nor  do  they  know  that  the 
kind  heart,  above  which  their  despair  lies 
helpless,  already  has  new  joys  and  larger 
life  to  occupy  them.  It  does  not  make 
the  pain  hurt  less  to  be  told  that  it  will 


Thanksgiving.  87 

not  last,  and  the  child  cannot  understand 
how  it  can  live  without  that  which  it  has 
lost.  But  the  mother  understands  for  it, 
and  has  already  provided  other  things 
to  fill  the  life  that  is  emptied  of  all  but 
memory.  And  the  mother  is  not  surprised 
to  see  smiles  returning  through  the  tears, 
and  the  baby's  face,  a  little  older  for  its 
grief,  contented  again. 

So  children  live  and  move  and  have 
their  being  in  a  world  of  love  which  they 
hardly  know  and  never  understand  until 
they  themselves  become  the  love  that  sur- 
rounds and  blesses  other  lives.  Blessed, 
thrice  blessed  is  the  man  who  has  awak- 
ened into  the  likeness  of  his  father  and 
his  mother,  and  still  has  them  with  him 
to  receive  the  burden  of  his  gratitude. 

Life  is  a  parable,  and  they  who  know 
it  best  see  in  its  tenderest  relations  the 
key  to  the  eternal  mysteries  of  God.  Are 
we  not,  at  our  very  best,  but  children  in  the 
dark,  short -sighted,  self -centered,  filled 
with  our  own  affairs,  unconscious  of  the 
Providence  that  surrounds  us,  more  con- 
scious of  our  losses  than  of  our  bless- 
ings, and  receiving  more  than  we  can  give 


88  In  Terms  of  Life. 

away.  Does  not  God  look  at  us  as  we 
overlook  our  children, —  planning  and 
leading,  doing  for  us  the  things  that  we 
leave  undone  to  our  hurt,  "  preventing  us 
by  the  blessings  of  his  goodness"?  Do 
we  not  understand  him  best  when  we  put 
aside  our  definitions  and  dogmas  and  cry 
"Father"? 

It  is  for  this  glimpse  of  God  that 
Thanksgiving  days  come.  Every  life 
should  have  many  of  them.  Not  that 
we  should  work  ourselves  into  a  state  of 
blind  optimism  by  enumerating  our  bless- 
ings, and  blindly  refusing  to  see  our  sor- 
rows. We  cannot  understand  God  fully 
except  through  the  medium  of  sorrow. 
And  these  blessings,  of  which  we  all  can 
name  so  many,  are  not  a  salve  to  deaden 
pain,  but  strength  to  help  us  bear  it. 

The  feeling  above  all  others  that 
should  possess  us  to-day  is,  that  in  this 
busy  world  we  are,  after  all,  at  home 
with  our  Father,  watched  over  and  guided 
and  blest  just  as  we  used  to  be  in  that 
other  home  where  love  withheld  so  many 
things  that  we  wanted  and  gave  so  much 
more  than  we  needed. 


Thanksgiving.  89 

Do  you  remember  in  the  "Bonnie  Brier 
Bush"  how  Carmichael  preached  his  first 
sermon?  It  was  the  evangel  of  the  Lord 
Jesus.  He  and  his  people  were  together 
caught  up  into  the  higher  heaven,  and  the 
orphaned  boy  saw  there  something  that 
made  him  hurry  home  and  throw  him- 
self on  his  aunt's  shoulder  crying,  "Oh, 
Auntie,  if  she  could  have  been  there ! " 
That  was  Carmichael's  thanksgiving. 
Through  the  first-fruit  of  his  life  he 
began  to  know  his  mother. 

So  we,  as  we  grow  older  and  wiser, 
turn  from  the  plaudits  of  our  friends  and 
praise  our  Heavenly  Father;  so  we  drop 
our  garnered  treasures  and  lift  our  empty 
hands  in  gratitude  to  him  who  made  the 
harvest  possible ;  so  we  link  our  lives 
with  our  Father's  in  everything  we  do,  and 
see  that  his  love  is  making  our  life  possi- 
ble in  greater  and  greater  fullness ;  so  we 
come  to  see  that  all  our  time  and  business, 
our  friends  and  our  power,  our  stores  and 
our  knowledge,  our  joys  and  our  sorrows, 
our  failures  and  our  victories,  are  all  a 
part  of  the  great  home-making  of  which 
our  good  Father  is  the  center. 


90  In  Terms  of  Life. 

This  is  why  thanksgiving  is  healthful 
and  meet.  We  learn  to  know  God  in 
the  only  way  man  can  ever  know  him, — 
through  the  recognition  of  his  great  love 
and  many  blessings. 

It  is  the  selfish  child  who  forgets  to 
say  "Thank  you."  Generous  natures  say 
it  easily.  Those  who  are  doing  most  for 
their  fellows  are  those  whose  hearts  are 
full  of  gratitude.  Some  of  you  may  say 
this  morning,  "I  have  no  part  in  this 
service;  I  am  here  as  a  spectator;  this  is 
not  my  thanksgiving."  Is  it  not  because 
you  are  not  helping  God  make  a  home 
for  the  men  and  women  in  this  world  that 
you  do  not  see  how  much  he  has  done  for 
you  ?  Like  that  young  man  who  took  his 
possessions  into  the  far  country,  you  are 
out  of  the  Father's  reach  and  cannot  know 
his  kindness,  and  you  have  little  or  noth- 
ing left  to  give.  Come  back  home  !  Take 
hold  and  help  the  Father  in  his  home- 
making,  and  you  will  grow  to  know  him 
so  well  as  you  work  together,  giving 
more  abundant  life  to  your  fellows,  that 
your  heart  will  overflow  with  praise  and 
thankfulness  to  him  who  has  given  you 


Thanksgiving.  91 

a  part  in  ;i  life  so  glorious.  "Beloved, 
now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth 
not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be ;  but  we 
know  that  when  he  shall  appear  we  shall 
be  like  him,  for  \ve  shall  see  him  as  he 
is." 


LIBEKTY 


LIBERTY. 

"If  the,  Son  therefore  shall  make  you  free, 
ye.  shall  be  free  indeed." 

THE  history  of  man  is  a  story  of  a 
struggle  for  freedom.  Oppression  is  one 
cause  of  every  war,  love  of  freedom  the 
other.  Ages  before  Pharaoh  made  the 
lives  of  the  Israelites  bitter  with  hard 
bondage,  the  slave  had  cried  out  with 
the  weight  of  his  chains.  The  moan 
of  the  oppressed,  the  clank  of  his  bonds, 
the  harsh  voice  of  the  cruel  taskmaster 
form  an  unbroken  monotone  in  the  midst 
of  which  History's  obligato  is  often 
nearly  drowned. 

And  the  heaviest  chains  have  not  always 
been  of  iron.  Superstition  and  ignorance 
have  held  men  captive,  and  conscience, 
always  in  advance  of  man's  development, 
has  cut  deeper  than  the  oppressor's  lash. 

Men  have  never  been  free.  They  have 
broken  through  dungeon  walls  to  find 

95 


96  In  Terms  of  Life. 

other  wider  walls  arcmnd  them.  Knowl- 
edge reveals  ignorance,  and  righteousness 
makes  sin  most  hideous.  Put  your  ear 
against  the  bosom  of  humanity  at  any 
time  and  interpret  the  secret  of  its  throb- 
bing prisoner,  and  you  find  the  hope  of 
freedom  back  of  all  its  struggles, —  free- 
dom from  hunger,  from  poverty,  from 
suffering  or  pain,  from  ignorance  or  fear, 
freedom  from  appetite  and  avarice  and 
passion  and  its  own  baser  nature.  And 
this  hope,  so  large  a  part  of  man's  nature, 
the  strongest  incentive  to  struggle  and 
growth,  has  been  fed  and  nourished  by 
prophet  and  priest.  The  goal  of  all  the 
ages  has  been  liberty.  Christ's  first  ser- 
mon proclaimed  deliverance  to  captives 
and  liberty  to  them  that  are  bruised. 

Man  is  made  to  resent  oppression.  He 
can  be  led  better  than  he  can  be  driven. 
It  is  his  God-given  independence,  not  sin, 
which  causes  his  whole  nature  to  array 
itself  against  a  command.  Fear  is  not  a 
good  master.  It  never  breeds  love.  Man 
can  never  be  happy  unless  he  does  what 
he  wants  to  do.  A  perfect  man  cannot  be 
made  by  the  Ten  Commandments.  "  Thou 


Liberty.  97 

shalt  not  do"  often  makes  man  want  to 
do.  God  made  man  independent  and  with 
a  will,  and  made  his  will  free  — allowed 
him  to  do  as  he  pleases.  And  when 
we  come  to  him,  he  does  not  wish  us 
to  pluck  out  our  wills  and  throw  them 
away,  and  come  to  him  as  slaves,  as 
human  machines.  He  wants  men,  men 
who  have  wills,  men  who  are  free,  men 
who  can  do  as  they  please  —  men  who 
please  to  come  to  him.  And  Christ  rec- 
ognized man's  nature,  his  Godlike  power 
of  willing,  when  he  wrote  across  the 
decalogue  the  single  word  LOVE,  which 
forever  blotted  out  the  command  and 
substituted  an  entreaty.  "Thou  shalt" 
and  "Thou  shalt  not"  became  "Come 
unto  me."  Instead  of  sitting  afar  off  in 
the  heavens  and  trying  to  reform  men 
from  the  outside  in,  to  drive  them  by 
fear  and  duty,  the  Almighty  Kuler 
revealed  his  love  through  Jesus  Christ 
and  came  down  to  our  level  and  lived 
our  life,  and  setting  his  face  heavenward 
he  said :  "  Follow  me.  I  am  the  way, 
the  truth,  and  the  life.  Ye  shall  know 
the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall  make  you 


98  In  Terms  of  Life. 

free.  If  the  Son  therefore  shall  make 
you  free,  ye  shall  be  free  indeed." 

What  is  it  to  be  free?  What  is  the 
freedom  which  Christ  offers? 

I  stood  one  sunny  day  on  a  coral  reef 
in  the  harbor  of  Vera  Cruz.  The  hazy 
blue  air  was  full  of  sunshine  and  the 
healthy  odors  of  the  sea.  Birds  were 
tumbling  about  overhead  in  the  perfect 
abandon  of  strength  and  room  and  trop- 
ical comfort.  The  white  rocks  and  blue 
sea  were  mixing  in  a  line  of  fleecy  foam 
until  the  coral  seemed  to  flow  away  on 
the  wave  crests.  It  was  a  perfect  day, 
such  as  God  sends  us  often  when  he  lets 
heaven  down  to  rest  on  earth  for  a  little 
while.  At  my  feet  was  a  square  hole  cut 
out  of  the  rock.  Across  it  were  bars  of 
iron.  I  put  my  face  down,  and  when  my 
eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  darkness 
below,  I  could  see  human  forms  there, — 
men  in  chains,  standing  in  water  ankle- 
deep,  with  the  ocean  ceaselessly  pound- 
ing overhead,  its  hoarse  laugh  reminding 
them  that  they  would  be  throAvn  to  the 
sharks  when  they  were  dead.  I  could 
see  their  haggard  faces  turned  up  toward 


Liberty.  99 

the  little  barred  square  of  light,  which 
was  all  of  the  great  free  outside  world 
they  could  see.  Since  that  day  that  Mexi- 
can prison  has  been  the  background 
against  which  I  have  set  my  ideal  of 
freedom.  Chained  hand  and  foot,  in- 
closed by  rocky  walls,  dependent  upon 
their  masters  for  food  and  drink  and  air 
and  life,  these  men  were  slaves. 

And  yet  not  all  slaves  are  in  chains  or 
behind  prison  bars.  Standing  beside  me 
in  the  group  that  looked  into  that  dismal 
hole  was  a  young  American.  He  seemed 
free.  He  could  go  where  he  pleased.  He 
could  gratify  his  appetites  and  desires. 
He  was  on  his  way  to  his  Northern  home 
to  wed  a  pure-hearted  girl  who  was  wait- 
ing for  him  there.  He  read  me  from  one 
of  her  letters,  and  one  could  see  that  he 
was  her  ideal  of  manhood.  Yet  the 
night  before  he  spent  in  a  Vera  Cruz 
brothel.  The  purity  he  was  taking  home 
to  his  betrothed  was  only  acted.  His 
manhood  was  only  on  the  surface.  The 
truth  was  not  in  him.  He  was  not  what 
he  seemed  to  be.  He  was  afraid  lest  he 
should  seem  to  be  what  he  was.  He  was 


100  In  Terms  of  Life. 

chained  by  his  sins  and  imprisoned  by 
the  wall  of  falsehood  he  had  built  around 
himself  until  he  could  walk  the  paths  of 
truth  only  in  great  fear  lest  the  rattle  of 
his  secret  chains  would  reveal  his  cap- 
tivity. 

A  man  is  not  always  free  when  he 
seems  to  do  as  he  pleases.  It  depends 
upon  what  he  pleases  to  do.  Nor  are 
outward  chains  the  only  badge  of  slavery. 
It  is  true  that  wherever  Christ  has  gone, 
emancipation  has  followed.  "  Imperial- 
ism has  given  way  to  democracy,  and 
slavery  to  free  labor."  Peter  slept  in 
prison,  and  an  angel  came  and  set  him 
free ;  but  this  is  not  the  way  Christ's 
freemen  are  liberated.  No  angel  touches 
the  sleeping  prisoner  that  the  chains  may 
drop  from  his  galled  wrists,  but  a  divine 
strength  has  been  imparted  to  the  bond- 
man until,  like  Samson,  he  has  risen  from 
his  slumber  and  shaken  himself,  and  his 
withes  have  parted  like  tow  in  the  flames. 
The  reformation  of  Christ  has  been 
peculiar  in  this.  It  has  reformed  men  by 
making  them  strong  enough  to  reform 
themselves.  The  angel  came  in  the  night 


Liberty.  101 

and  touched  Peter,  and  his  chains  fell  off 
and  he  was  free.  This  is  the  old  way  of 
liberating.  The  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
Paul  made  him  victor  over  his  own  baser 
nature,  and  set  him  free  from  the  despo- 
tism of  his  own  folly  and  the  mastership 
of  the  Evil  One.  That  is  Christ's  way. 
His  reformation  is  from  the  inside  out. 
Man  becomes  a  partner  in  the  process. 
And  though  the  reformation  is  from 
within,  man  has  not  that  within  him 
which  can  effect  it.  It  must  be  imparted 
from  without.  It  is  God-given.  Have 
you  ever  tried  self-reformation?  Have 
you  ever  tried  by  taking  thought  to  add 
one  cubit  to  your  stature  ?  To  lift  your- 
self by  the  hair  of  your  head?  Have 
you  ever  on  January  first  resolved  to  cast 
away  the  old  sin  that  has  so  long  tyran- 
nized you  and  made  you  its  slave?  And 
have  you  on  January  second  seen  the 
tempter  dangling  the  old  sin,  which  he 
had  caught?  And  as  he  held  it  before 
you,  you  have  tried  to  look  away,  and 
have  put  out  your  hand  to  push  it  away, 
but  have  grasped  it  instead  and  brought 
it  to  your  bosom  and  embraced  it  there. 


102  In  Terms  of  Life. 

Have  you  known  what  it  is  to  cry  out, 
like  Paul,  "  O  wretched  man  that  I  am ! 
who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of 
death?"  That  which  is  so  hard,  even 
impossible  for  you,  is  made  easy  for  you 
by  Christ.  He  displaces  your  weakness 
by  his  might,  and  whom  he  makes  free 
is  free  indeed.  A  physician  in  Illinois 
claims  to  have  discovered  a  medicine 
which  when  given  to  a  drunkard  will 
make  him  loathe  alcohol.  Our  Great 
Physician  imparts  to  us  his  own  nature, 
and  we  hate  sin  as  he  hated  it. 

By  far  the  severest  struggles  of  men 
for  liberty  have  been  against  sin  and  un- 
righteousness,—  severest  because  they 
have  been  secret.  The  battle  has  been 
fought  alone.  No  touching  of  elbows 
and  bracing  of  shoulders  and  strength  of 
comradeship,  which  add  so  much  to  man's 
power  of  standing  before  the  missiles  of 
the  enemy ;  but  instead  the  still  hours  of 
a  sleepless  night,  or,  alone  in  the  multi- 
tude, behind  the  thin  mask  we  put  on 
over  our  sins  because  we  are  ashamed  of 
them.  Men  always  try  to  do  right.  It 
is  not  natural  for  man  to  sin.  He  is  made 


Liberty.  103 

to  be  free,  and  the  chaiiis  of  sin  gall  as 
much  as  chains  of  iron.  In  the  heart  of 
every  man  four  motives  drive  toward 
righteousness  —  fear,  duty,  hope,  and 
love.  He  tries  to  do  right  because  he 
is  afraid  of  the  punishment  of  wrong- 
doing, or  because  he  feels  that  he  ought 
to  do  right,  or  because  he  hopes  for  the 
reward  of  right-doing,  or  because  he 
loves  to  do  right.  Three  of  these  motives 
are  poor  masters.  Christ's  motive  is  by 
far  the  best  one. 

The  man  who  does  right  because  he  is 
afraid  of  punishment  is  not  free.  The 
man  who  will  not  steal  because  he  sees 
the  prison  bars  is  a  thief  nevertheless. 
The  man  who  is  set  free  from  drink  by 
a  policeman  standing  guard  over  each 
saloon  is  not  free  indeed.  Nor  does  it 
matter  what  form  the  restraint  takes. 
Fear  is  always  a  master,  and  he  who 
fears  is  always  a  slave.  If  you  are 
honest  because  it  is  the  best  policy,  your 
honesty  is  assumed,  not  real.  If  you 
attend  church  because  it  is  respectable, 
the  church  is  your  prison,  and  public 
opinion  your  jailer.  If  you  walk  the 


104  In  Terms  of  Life. 

strait  path  when  with  your  wife  or 
neighbor,  when  away  from  their  protec- 
tion you  will  probably  attend  the  theater 
instead  of  the  church,  and  indulge  the 
appetite  from  which  shame  or  fear  alone 
defended  you. 

The  motive  of  duty  is  higher,  but  far 
from  perfect.  Moreover,  it  is  a  cold, 
heartless  master.  Do  you  love  your  wife 
because  it  is  your  duty?  Are  you  kind 
to  your  neighbor  because  you  ought  to 
be?  Do  you  try  to  hold  appetite  and 
passion  and  desire  in  check  because  you 
are  morally  obliged  to?  You  are  like 
that  one-talent  man  who  brought  to  his 
Lord  his  debt  of  duty,  and  lost  principal 
as  well  as  interest  and  received  no  word 
of  commendation. 

Some  men  do  right  because  of  the 
hope  of  reward.  The  delights  of  the 
Eternal  City  are  always  before  them. 
They  try  to  hate  this  world  and  all  it 
contains  of  opportunity  and  training. 
They  try  to  buy  their  way  to  heaven  by 
deeds  of  righteousness.  This  is  merce- 
nary. Do  you  remember  the  young  man 
who  came  to  Jesus  by  night?  He  had 


Liberty.  105 

put  the  tables  of  stone  in  one  pan  of  the 
balance,  and  hoped  to  see  Eternal  Life 
rise  in  the  other.  From  his  youth  up 
he  had  been  working  for  a  reward,  yet 
the  first  command  to  love  sent  him  away 
sorrowing. 

Christ  offers  the  freedom  of  love.  He 
does  not  demand  a  service  of  fear.  Per- 
fect love  casts  out  fear.  He  does  not 
demand  a  service  of  duty.  That  which 
the  law  could  not  do  in  that  it  was  weak, 
the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath 
made  us  free  from.  Indeed,  Christ  de- 
mands no  service  whatever.  We  are  no 
longer  servants,  but  friends.  We  are 
adopted.  We  become  members  of  God's 
family,  and  therefore  his  work  is  our 
work.  We  do  right  because  we  please 
to  do  right.  He  changes  us  into  his 
image  so  that  we  hate  sin  and  love  right- 
eousness. 

The  service  of  love  does  not  question 
—  does  not  count  the  cost.  There  is  no 
friction  in  love.  It  requires  no  process 
of  cold  reasoning  to  make  you  cherish 
your  mother  or  your  wife.  You  never 
think  of  service  when  making  your  child 


106  In  Terms  of  Life. 

happy.  Love  hides  reason,  and  crowds 
out  even  the  thought  of  sacrifice.  Love 
makes  it  possible  for  us  to  grow  without 
taking  thought,  makes  righteousness  nat- 
ural, makes  us  free  indeed. 

"I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the 
life.  .  .  .  And  ye  shall  know  the  truth, 
and  the  truth  shall  make  you  free." 


FRAGMENT 


FRAGMENT.* 

A  VERY  large  part  of  the  intellectual 
class  finds  itself  to-day  between  the  horns 
of  a  dilemma.  On  the  one  hand,  the  mind 
is  dominated  by  inheritance  and  training 
until  it  identifies  religion  with  its  insti- 
tutions, its  dogmas,  its  forms,  its  figures 
of  speech;  on  the  other,  this  mind  is 
trained  by  the  methods  and  literature  of 
the  age  to  war  with  the  institutions  of 
religion,  to  ignore  her  forms  and  reject 
her  dogmas.  The  dilemma  is  not  a  new 
one,  though  its  present  dimensions  belong 
to  the  latter  half  of  this  century. 

By  this  dilemma  one  who  would  be 
religious  is  tempted  to  separate  his  reli- 
gion from  his  intellectual  life  to  the  great 
disturbance  of  the  former,  or  to  close  his 
eyes  to  what  they  see  and  distrust  reason 
and  experience  so  far  as  they  lead  him 
aAvay  from  his  faith.  This  is  a  form  of 

•Written  probably  in  November  or  December,  1898,  but 
not  delivered. 
109 


110  In  Terms  of  Life. 

intellectual  dishonesty  not  so  common 
now  as  a  few  years  ago.  By  this  same 
dilemma  one  who  would  be  rational  is 
tempted  to  hoodwink  himself  by  imagin- 
ing that  he  believes  what  he  knows  he 
doubts,  or  to  classify  himself  as  unreli- 
gious  altogether  because  he  is  not  like 
some  people,  who  say  they  believe  what 
he  must  doubt,  and  who  loudly  affirm 
their  own  religion.  The  dilemma  is  not 
a  new  one,  but  to  those  whose  expanding 
intellectual  life  leads  them  to  it  for  the 
first  time  it  is  new  and  very  real.  Of 
these  there  are  many  in  our  midst.  I 
speak  chiefly  for  these. 

I  believe  that  every  man  can  and  ought 
to  be  religious.  I  do  not  think  he  is  a 
complete  man  until  he  is  religious.  If 
you  will  accept  my  definition  of  religion, 
you  will  think  so  too.  I  cannot  make 
you  religious.  I  would  not  if  I  could. 
That  is  your  part.  Being  is  not  born 
of  hearing,  but  of  doing.  But  I  have 
learned  some  things  in  my  experience 
with  young  men  and  women  that  have 
been  very  helpful  to  me  and  to  others  to 
whom  I  have  given  them.  Some  of  these 


Fragment.  Ill 

things  I  bring  to  you,  hoping  they  may  be 
needed.  I  like  to  bring  to  this  chapel 
platform  the  best  my  life  gives  me,  and 
the  best  thing  out  of  my  experience  is 
that  the  life  Jesus  Christ  lived  is  the 
best  life  for  any  man  or  woman.  People 
do  not  readily  believe  this.  When  we 
remember  how  quickly  men  throw  away 
old  things  for  newer  and  better,  how 
rapidly  new  inventions  are  adopted  the 
world  over,  we  can  but  wonder  that  the 
best  life  has  so  slowly  commended  itself 
to  the  race.  But  I  think  we  are  begin- 
ning to  see  that  the  world  has  had  but 
imperfect  and  few  glimpses  of  the  real 
life  of  Jesus.  An  artificial,  man-made 
Jesus,  constructed  of  Greek  philosophy, 
Oriental  mysticism,  and  Roman  legalism, 
has  grown  up  between  the  real  Jesus  and 
a  harassed  people  who  yet  instinctively 
feel  that  there  is  a  living  being  within  the 
mass  of  stuff  associated  with  his  name. 

With  most  people  to-day  the  terms 
Christianity  and  Religion  are  synony- 
mous. Even  the  Jew  of  to-day  will 
speak  of  the  civilization  which  he  him- 
self has  so  well  helped  to  build  as 


112  In  Terms  of  Life. 

a  Christian  civilization.  The  adjective 
Christian  and  the  term  Christianity  are 
used  to  designate  and  define  that  move- 
ment which,  wider  than  any  church, 
broader  than  any  creed,  has  carried  our 
moral  and  social  and  intellectual  life  far 
in  advance  of  that  of  any  other  age. 
Even  men  who  would  rather  believe  like 
Buddha  or  Confucius  prefer  to  live  like 
Christians.  Christianity  is  one  of  the 
very  few  universal  things  in  the  world 
to-day,  until  we  seek  to  define  it  —  then 
Babel  ensues.  Now,  the  reason  for  this 
confusion  and  lack  of  agreement  is  the 
fact  that  men  do  not  base  their  definitions 
upon  the  reality,  but  upon  deductions 
and  doctrines  which  from  their  very 
nature  can  never  be  tested  by  experience. 
This  confusion  of  tongues  has  turned 
many  true  men  and  women  away  from 
Christianity.  Go  to  them  and  say,  in 
Jesus'  name,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faith- 
ful servant;  you  are  a  Christian."  And 
they  will  answer,  "I  never  was  baptized, 
never  joined  the  church,  never  recited 
the  creed,  and  never  said,  Lord,  Lord." 
Then  you  may  answer,  "  But  I  was  hun- 


Fragment.  113 

gry,  and  ye  gave  me  meat.  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  drink.  I  was  a  stranger 
(homesick  and  lonely),  and  ye  took  me 
into  your  home.  I  was  naked,  and  ye 
clothed  me.  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited 
me.  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto 
me."  This  kingdom  is  made  of  such  as 
these.  If  we  would  use  Christ's  test  of 
a  Christian  and  separate  the  men-serving 
sheep  from  the  do-nothing  goats,  there 
are.  not  enough  churches  in  this  world  to 
house  the  host  of  Christians,  not  even 
allowing  for  the  church  space  that  the 
goats  would  have  to  vacate. 

It  is  pathetic  to  see  how  the  world  is 
struggling  toward  the  Christian  ideals 
almost  in  spite  of  the  great  institutions 
which  have  so  long  stood  as  the  repre- 
sentatives of  Christ.  The  pulpit  no  longer 
has  a  monopoly  in  proclaiming  the  truth. 
The  truest  religious  life  finds  expression 
now  in  a  thousand  ways  that  have  not  yet 
been  adopted  by  any  institution. 

Ten  years  ago  Phillips  Brooks  said, 
"The  great  mass  of  men  do  not  to-day 
belong  in  associated  relations  to  the 

Christian  Church."     He  shows  that  this 
H 


114  In  Terms  of  Life. 

is  because  the  Church  has  confined  her- 
self to  the  few  partial  phases  of  religious 
activity  she  now  displays,  and  is  so 
largely  a  mere  conserver  of  dogma  and 
forms  of  worship.  This  condition  has 
certainly  not  changed  for  the  better  since 
1888,  so  far  as  the  conventional  church  is 
concerned.  There  have  been  wonderful 
strides  along  philanthropic  and  socio- 
logical lines  which  have  enlisted  thou- 
sands of  idle  hands  in  service ;  and 
institutional  churches  with  walls  as 
broad  as  human  activities  are  springing 
up  outside  of  the  established  channels. 
"True  religion  is  mightily  stirring  and 
strenuously  laboring  in  all  these  various 
directions :  and  certainly  if  the  Church 
does  not  soon  wrake  to  an  adequate  sense 
of  her  great  privilege,  facilities,  and  duty, 
she  will  be  left  in  the  rear,  instead  of 
being  the  leader  of  the  universal  move- 
ment toward  better  things." 

For  the  Church  this  means  that  it  loses 
that  great  body  of  true  and  earnest  men 
who  do  not  recognize  their  ideal  of  hu- 
manity in  it.  But  for  many  of  these  true 
and  earnest  men,  lovers  of  their  fellows, 


Fragment.  115 

it  means  that  they  classify  themselves  as 
heretics  and  outcasts  and  unreligious. 
This  in  itself  does  not  make  them  so 
except  so  far  as  a  man  unconsciously 
lives  up  to  the  reputation  he  makes  for 
himself.  Custom  has  so  identified  reli- 
gion with  its  institutions  in  our  minds 
that  it  is  difficult  to  think  of  one  without 
the  other.  It  is  a  sign  of  vitality  when 
a  man  inside  of  a  church,  or  outside, 
recognizes  his  religion  as  his  life  inde- 
pendent of  any  means  of  expression. 
The  commendation  "well  done  "  will  give 
certain  self-approval  to  any  one  who  faith- 
fully works  with  the  trend  of  things,  but 
it  will  come  sooner  if  he  knows  he  has  a 
right  to  expect  it.  Many  people  come  to 
know  Christ  by  their  righteous  lives  who 
would  never  know  him  through  what 
often  seems  to  them  the  fantastic  and 
irrational  processes  of  Christian  institu- 
tions. Kindness  and  sympathy  and  mercy 
and  love  are  eternal  graces  and  know  their 
kind  wherever  found,  and  are  known  by 
them. 

But  must  I   not  believe  this   or  that 
about  God   or  Christ  before  I  am  reli- 


116  In  Terms  of  Life. 

gious  ?  Most  certainly  not :  only  so  much 
as  finds  a  response  in  your  own  life.  It 
is  only  that  part  of  God  or  Jesus  that  we 
can  appropriate,  assimilate,  and  recognize 
as  possible  and  attainable  incur  own  lives 
that  is  of  any  use  to  us. 

I  have  wished  many  times  that  religion 
might  be  put  upon  a  more  natural  and 
commonplace  basis;  that  so  much  of  the 
supernatural  as  is  not  founded  on  our 
daily  experiences  or  suggested  by  our 
living  might  be  removed. 

The  instinct  of  worship  is  indestructi- 
ble in  man's  nature. 

Religion  is  the  activity  of  our  sym- 
pathies, the  feeding  of  our  hopes,  the 
strengthening  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
trend  of  things. 

"Men  worship  best  together,  but  they 
philosophize  best  alone." 

But  you  say,  "If  I  believe  a  part  of 
Jesus'  life,  must  not  I  believe  it  all?" 
No.  Your  life  is  founded  upon  so  much 
of  truth  as  you  apprehend;  the  rest  is 
mystery  to  you,  and  whatever  your  atti- 
tude toward  it,  you  do  not  keep  it  to 
live  with. 


II.— LECTURE  FRAGMENTS 


INTRODUCTOKY.* 

MY  purpose  in  this  course  is,  (1)  to 
study  the  actual  life  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth,—  Christ  as  he  was,  not  what  men 
have  thought  he  ought  to  be  ;  (2)  to  study 
his  words  just  as  they  were  uttered  and 
independent  of  commentaries  and  deduc- 
tions, seeking  to  translate  them  into  the 
terms  of  our  life  to-day ;  (3)  to  study  the 
movement  called  Christianity,  which,  tak- 
ing its  name  from  its  founder  and  its  char- 
acter from  his  principles,  is  without  doubt 
the  controlling  force  in  our  civilization 
to-day. 

I  recognize  fully  a  certain  limitation 
and  embarrassment  because  the  subject 
is  so  intimately  connected  with  the  reli- 
gious life  and  thoughts  of  so  many  people. 
We  dread  to  talk  out  loud  about  the 
things  we  associate  with  our  churches 

•Fragment  of  a  lecture  given  at  the  beginning  of  the 
secoiul  semester  in  the  course  on  the  Life  and  Teachings 
of  Christ. 

119 


120  In  Terms  of  Life. 

and  our  prayers.  We  fear  to  bring  into 
the  glare  of  the  sunlight  those  objects 
which  seem  so  mysterious  in  the  gloom 
of  the  cathedral.  (Their  healthy  growth 
depends  upon  the  amount  of  airing  we 
give  them.)  Yet,  in  spite  of  these  limi- 
tations, we  will  seek  to  study  Christ  and 
Christianity  with  our  common  senses,  to 
test  them  by  our  human  standards, —  than 
which  we,  after  all,  have  no  other, —  and 
to  use  them  for  our  human  and  every-day 
necessities,  which  are  the  only  ones  that 
are  real  and  important. 

We  will  always  worship,  if  we  worship 
at  all,  that  which  is  highest  and  truest  in 
our  lives.  Nothing  outside  of  our  lives, 
however  grand  and  noble,  will  ever  be  an 
object  of  worship. 

We  love  to  abstract  ourselves  from  our 
bodies  and  our  gods  from  our  hearts  and 
let  the  two  flit  off  together  into  thin-aired 
heights  where  there  is  nothing  to  do  be- 
cause there  is  nothing  to  bother.  But 
the  God  whom  we  serve  and  seek  and 
pray  to  is  concrete  and  anthropomor- 
phic,—  in  us  and  not  without  us. 

If  Christ  is  an  important  factor  in  our 


Introductory.  121 

social  life, —  and  he  is  without  doubt  the 
most  important, —  why  should  we  not 
study  him  as  we  study  Shakespeare,  or 
Luther,  or  Ca?sar,  and  in  exactly  the  same 
spirit?  If  Christianity  summarizes  the 
great  forces  which  control  and  direct  and 
shape  our  civilization,  why,  then,  should 
we  not  study  it  as  we  would  the  French 
Revolution,  and  in  exactly  the  same 
spirit? 

In  studying  the  person  of  Christ,  his 
biography  and  his  character,  we  must  do 
it  here  in  human  terms.  That  is  not  say- 
ing that  there  are  no  other  terms.  But 
the  object  of  these  lectures  is  to  empha- 
size the  humanity  of  Christ.  There  is  a 
theology  of  Christ ;  its  study  belongs  to 
metaphysics.  There  is  a  psychology  of 
Christ ;  its  study  belongs  in  its  particular 
place.  Our  study  here  is  never  distinct 
from  these  two  phases,  but  it  is  never 
distinctly  either.  I  shall  endeavor  to 
exhibit  the  strong  and  pure,  the  success- 
ful, the  virile  nature,  the  picture  of  whose 
life  makes  every  true  man  stand  taller 
and  every  weak  heart  stronger. 

It  is  a  fact  that  no  man  can  ever  stand 


122  In  Terms  of  Life. 

true  under  the  severest  tests  of  life  with- 
out increasing  the  self-respect  of  every 
other  man  who  knows  it.  I  never  hear 
or  see  such  instances  without  feeling 
proud  that  the  human  race  can  commit 
such  virtue.  So,  setting  aside  all  doc- 
trines about  Christ's  nature  and  office, 
not  for  the  reason  that  we  do  not  hold 
them,  but  because  they  are  not  for  us  to 
study  here,  we  will  use  this  wonderfully 
simple  and  natural  teacher's  life  as  a  key 
to  solve  the  mysteries  of  our  own  lives. 

A  violet  looking  at  the  sun  can  know 
only  its  violet  rays.  Its  knowledge  fades 
on  the  one  hand  into  actinic  darkness ;  on 
the  other,  it  is  lost  in  the  blues.  Its 
knowledge  of  the  great  sun  is  limited  by 
the  work  the  sun  has  done  in  it,  by  its 
coincidence  with  the  sun. 

So  with  any  ideal,  with  any  friend. 
Friendship  is  but  the  common  ground 
you  and  another  occupy.  Your  best 
friend  is  he  who  widens  this  common 
ground  and  quickens  your  whole  being, 
the  one  who  makes  you  live  the  most. 
You  do  not  measure  your  friendships  by 
your  brains,  but  by  your  pulse-beats. 


Introductory.  123 

Some  of  you  say  that  you  cannot  recon- 
cile your  intellectual  and  your  spiritual 
lives.  I  think  you  never  will,  if  by  recon- 
cile you  mean  coincide.  The  head  can 
never  understand  the  heart,  and  the  heart 
will  always  be  doing  such  unreasonable 
things.  But  if  the  head  is  right  in  its 
sphere,  it  will  find  that  the  heart  in  its 
sphere  is  right  also, —  much  harm  may 
come  from  trying  to  identify  them.  Enter, 
then,  into  this  study  of  Christ's  life  with 
your  whole  life,  not  your  head  only. 
You  will  satisfy  me  and  my  roll-book 
probably  if  you  use  your  heads  alone, 
but  you  yourself  will  be  unsatisfied.  In 
the  clear  light  of  Christ's  teaching  and 
life,  study  your  own  life,  your  appetites 
and  ambitious,  your  social  relations, —  all 
your  relations  to  God  and  to  man.  Apply 
to  him  the  same  tests  that  apply  to  your 
own  life  ;  apply  to  yourself  his  standards 
of  life.  In  this  way  only  can  we  profit- 
ably deal  with  the  facts  of  his  life  and 
the  truths  of  his  teaching.  .  .  . 

Christ  talked  in  the  language  and 
figures  of  the  every-day  life  of  his  time. 
To  the  people  who  listened  he  was  not 


124  In  Terms  of  Life. 

using  the  language  of  the  temple,  but  of 
the  street,  of  the  field,  of  the  lake-shore. 
He  talked  to  be  understood  by  people 
whom  he  understood.  We  can  only  com- 
prehend his  meaning  by  understanding 
the  conditions  of  the  time,  the  people, 
the  figures  of  speech,  the  changes  that 
have  come  to  the  words  he  used.  .  .  . 

The  words  of  Christ  were  not  religious 
in  his  day  any  more  or  less  than  a  lecture 
in  hygiene  is  to-day.  We  expect  to  hear 
them  in  church  or  connect  them  with  reli- 
gion, but  they  were  not  such  words  as  his 
audiences  were  accustomed  to  hear  in 
the  synagogues.  They  have  become  so 
largely  the  ecclesiastical  language  of  our 
time  that  it  is  hard  for  us  to  realize  that 
they  were  not  ecclesiastical  then.  "He 
taught  not  as  the  scribes  taught."  We 
can  only  get  the  meaning  of  these  words 
by  taking  from  them  the  ecclesiastical 
setting  and  expressing  them  in  our  own 
phraseology.  .  .  . 


THE   SPIRITUAL   LIFE. 

MOST  of  us  have  a  thought-world  where 
we  love  to  retreat  and  dream  —  a  fair 
and  happy  land,  where  sweet  fields  are 
arrayed  in  living  green  and  rivers  with 
milk  and  honey  flow,  where  this  world 
as  we  know  it  is  reproduced  in  fancy  with 
all  that  is  evil  and  uncomfortable  and 
wearing  left  out.  It  is  no  larger  than 
this  world.  It  is  no  grander.  It  is  not 
peopled  by  giants  and  heroes,  but  by 
men  and  women  like  ourselves,  disem- 
bodied, we  think,  but  just  like  ourselves 
in  size,  interests,  attainments,  loves,  and 
hates,  and  differing  from  this  only  in  the 
one  particular,  namely,  that  it  is  made  of 
dreams,  and  contains  only  what  seems 
attractive  and  desirable  to  us,  while  this 
is  real,  is  worked  in  matter,  and  is  full 
of  restrictions  and  laws  that  hamper  and 
limit,  We  call  that  our  spiritual  life, 
this  our  temporal ;  and  because  things 


126  In  Terms  of  Life. 

seem  to  run  so  smoothly  there  and  so 
roughly  here,  and  especially  because  we 
have  to  give  so  much  of  our  time  to  this 
and  find  it  so  hard  to  abstract  ourselves 
and  dream  of  that,  we  argue  that  these 
two  are  at  war  and  it  will  be  a  grand  day 
when  we  are  freed  from  this  prison-house 
and  its  hard  labor.  We  argue  so ;  and 
yet  we  hardly  believe  it,  for  we  have  lots 
of  good  times  here,  and  when  this  ghostly 
presence  is  not  with  us,  reminding  us 
that  this  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show,  we 
live  this  life  to  the  full,  and  whenever 
we  forget  ourselves  we  are  often  very 
happy. 

We  have  located  most  that  we  mean 
by  religion  in  that  spiritual  and  unreal 
world.  The  Bible,  church  service,  prayer, 
and  much  that  we  call  duty,  seems  to  be 
reached  down  like  a  great  good  out  of 
that  ethereal  realm  of  mystery;  and  we 
compel  ourselves  to  do  things  without 
reason,  just  because  custom  has  connected 
them  with  religion,  and  religion  is  spiri- 
tual, which  often  means  also  irrational. 

We  are  told  by  preacher  and  teacher, 
by  friend  and  conscience,  that  we  must 


The  Spiritual   Life.  127 

cultivate  our  spiritual  natures,  and  so  we 
pore  over  our  Bibles,  hoping  to  absorb 
spirituality.  We  drop  our  tasks  and  try 
to  think  of  other  things,  to  clothe  our 
fleshly  bodies  in  figures  of  speech.  We 
put  ourselves  in  unnatural,  unspoutaueous 
positions  or  activities  and  think  they  de- 
velop the  supernatural  and  spiritual,  and 
then  —  we  splash  back  into  our  native 
element  like  a  panting  fish  that  has 
leaped  into  the  air  to  catch  a  sunbeam. 
What  is  wrong?  If  the  spiritual  life  is 
something  taken  out  of  this  life  of  sense, 
something  I  must  prepare  for  by  extra 
exertions  above  and  beyond  those  needed 
to  keep  me  alive  and  fed  and  clothed  and 
useful  in  this  life  of  physical  activity, 
then  the  struggle  is  too  hard  for  me.  I 
cannot  divide  my  energies.  I  have  not 
time  to  stop  living  and  go  to  church  or 
prayer-meeting,  or  to  exercise  my  spiri- 
tual senses.  All  such  time  is  pilfered 
from  this  life  that  I  am  leading,  and  I 
will  fall  behind  in  the  race  if  I  permit 
such  waste.  Now,  I  am  sure  that  one,  if 
not  the  only,  reason  church  services  or 
prayer  -  meetings  are  not  attended  by 


128  In  Terms  of  Life. 

crowds,  is  because  they  have  to  do  so 
largely  with  a  theological  and  therefore 
unreal  world.  They  supply  no  demand. 

Many  of  us  see  no  difference  between 
this  unreality  and  what  we  mean  by  spiri- 
tuality. We  abuse  our  own  consciences 
and  brand  ourselves  as  heretics  because 
we  do  not  enjoy  and  find  food  in  what  we 
have  been  educated  to  believe  is  meat  and 
drink  for  the  spiritual  life.  If  we  exam- 
ine the  case  with  care,  we  will  find  that 
the  trouble  grows  out  of  a  misconception 
of  the  spiritual  life.  What,  then,  is  the 
spiritual  life? 

In  the  first  place,  a  spiritual  life  is 
activity  —  not  dreaming.  It  is  the  refine- 
ment of  this  life  - — -  not  for  a  moment  or 
by  a  hair's-breadth  now  or  ever  separated 
from  it.  It  is  this  life,  if  it  is  anything 
at  all.  It  is  wrong  to  speak  of  it  as  a 
separate  life  at  all ;  it  is  this  life,  spiri- 
tualized. "It  is  the  activity  of  the  soul 
in  its  sensitiveness  to  the  unseen  world." 
But  that  unseen  world  is  the  world  that 
expresses  itself  in  the  forms  and  forces 
and  lives  we  see  and  handle  and  struggle 
with  and  help  and  hinder  all  about  us. 


The  Spiritual   Life.  129 

It  is  that  part  of  me  that  is  not  confined 
to  my  body,  that  part  of  me  that  leaps 
from  my  heart  outward  toward  men  and 
God  and  his  world,  not  some  dream  of 
future  happiness  hidden  in  the  inner 
chambers  of  my  imagination  to  be  real- 
ized when  my  disembodied  spirit  joins 
the  favored  circle  inside  the  pearly  gates. 
That  is  refined  selfishness,  and  though  it 
is  called  Heaven,  it  is  gross  materialism. 
Building  our  dream-castles  out  of  pearls 
and  gold  and  furnishing  them  with  beds 
of  ease  is  as  harmful  to  character  as 
if  built  like  a  sty  and  furnished  with 
troughs.  Let  me  illustrate  :  You  and  I 
have  a  common  life — not  our  features, 
or  stature,  or  appetites,  or  physical 
powers  of  any  kind.  These  all  vary 
infinitely,  and,  moreover,  they  are  all 
things  we  cannot  share.  But  we  stand 
on  common  ground  and  exchange  our 
thoughts;  words  fly  back  and  forth,  and 
they  are  not  always  empty.  I  talk  to 
you,  and  so  much  of  your  life  as  is 
moved  is  mine,  my  dominion  in  you.  I 
pick  a  thought  from  my  heart  and  throw 
it  into  the  air.  Instantly  a  dozen  of  you 


130  In  Terms  of  Life. 

catch  it;  it  is  yours  too;  we  are  alike, 
we  have  that  in  common,  we  are  to  that 
extent  attuned  one  with  another.  Now, 
nothing  —  no  thing  —  passes  from  me  to 
you.  Yet  one's  whole  life  may  be 
changed  by  such  experiences.  They  are 
the  cream  of  living.  Within  ourselves 
we  may  be  struggling  for  possessions, 
for  existence.  Here  is  a  "  neutral  ground  " 
for  barter.  Widen  the  "neutral  ground.'' 
[Husband  and  wife.  Completely  united. 
Extend  this  to  the  world,  to  include  all 
men.  It  can  include  all  men.  Sound 
men  for  it,  and  you  always  find  it.J  This 
is  the  life  of  the  world,  the  common  life, 
that  will  come  and  does  come  just  in 
proportion  as  men  make  other  people's 
lives  their  lives.  I  do  not  mean  doing 
things  for  other  people  as  outside  of  our- 
selves, for  conscience'  sake,  or  what  not. 
That  again  is  selfishness,  though  it  is 
often  called  charity.  But  it  does  mean 
living  a  life  common  with  other  people, 
just  as  a  mother  makes  the  child's  life 
her  own,  and  as  he  will  make  hers  his 
own  when  he  is  a  man,  joined  to  her,  not 
by  any  material  bands  or  physical  cords, 


The  Spiritual   Life.  131 

but  by  a  spiritual  and  a  common  love. 
This  is  real  charity,  this  is  altruism,  and 
is  possible  only  to  that  part  of  us  that 
dwells  in  the  spiritual  world,  the  only 
part  that  we  can  have  in  common,  even 
with  our  best  friend. 

Now,  this  spiritual  life  is  as  wide  as 
the  world.  It  develops  as  we  add  life 
by  life  to  our  life,  not  only  the  lives  that 
are  now  on  earth,  but  all  who  have  left 
messages  to  be  read  centuries  after  they 
are  gone.  I  read  Emerson.  Sentence 
after  sentence  sets  chords  quivering  in 
my  soul  until  I  think  and  feel  like  Emer- 
son— I  am  Emerson.  I  read  words 
spoken  by  Jesus.  Again  the  throbbing 
common  life  tells  me  we  are  one.  I  look 
into  the  face  of  a  friend.  Soul  meets 
soul  even  before  the  tardy  tongue  can 
speak  and  we  share  our  common  life. 
So  we  find  the  world  is  a  spirit-world, 
and  as  we  live  on  this  common  ground  of 
love  and  altruism  more  and  more  do  we 
know  that  the  spiritual  is  developing  in 
us,  that  this  life  includes  and  swallows 
up  all  other  life. 

More    than    this,    we    find    men    have 


132  In  Terms  of  Life. 

common  aspirations,  all  upward.  Their 
ideals  all  face  the  same  way  —  toward 
the  heavens.  They  are  being  led,  perhaps 
driven,  in  the  same  direction,  and  Nature 
not  always  master,  is  more  often  father, 
and  speaks  messages  which  the  spirit  of 
man  understands.  A  great  world-spirit, 
a  universal  life,  is  abroad,  whispering  the 
same  words  to  all  men,  leading  men  in 
the  same  path,  teaching  the  same  laws  of 
righteousness,  and  brooding  lovingly  over 
men  to  show  them  that  they  are  one  with 
each  other  and  one  with  it.  Is  not  this 
the  Holy  Spirit  — God  communing  with 
his  children  ?  Just  as  I  share  with  you 
my  life,  we  together  share  his  life. 

Now,  suppose  your  life  is  complete  in 
itself.  You  give  all  your  time  to  your 
studies  —  day  after  day  adding  to  your 
knowledge,  studying  machines,  skeletons, 
laws,  perfecting  your  tools,  not  with  any 
one  or  for  any  one,  but  for  yourself. 
Blind  to  the  messages  that  flash  from 
faces  and  from  Nature,  dead  to  the  pulses 
of  power  that  throb  around  you,  do  you 
not  descend  to  the  level  of  the  machine 
you  study  and  cut  off  the  common  thing 


The  Spiritual   Life.  133 

that  would  link  you  with  men  aud  with 
God?  You,  then,  have  no  spirituality. 

Anything  that  you  do  for  yourself, 
that  centers  in  yourself,  that  is  out  of 
touch  with  the  great  world-life,  is  selfish  ; 
it  is  material,  and  it  will  never,  can  never, 
link  you  with  the  life  of  the  world.  Un- 
selfishness, spirituality,  usefulness,  power 
of  giving  aud  receiving,  come  through 
sharing,  and  we  can  share  only  what  is 
spiritual.  If  we  really  have  this  com- 
mon life  in  us,  and  it  is  life,  will  we  not 
enjoy  and  desire  to  exercise  it  together? 
And  how  shall  we  cultivate  it  ?  Is  it  not 
a  very  natural  thing  I  have  been  speaking 
of?  Just  as  I  develop  and  cultivate  any 
other  power  of  my  being,  will  I,  by 
activity,  by  living,  feed  this  life  until  it 
links  me  with  all  men  and  with  God. 

Religion  belongs  here.  Identify  her 
with  her  stuff,  and  she  ceases  to  be 
religion.  Religion  is  the  activity  of 
one's  sympathies,  the  feeding  of  hope, 
the  strengthening  of  one's  knowledge  of 
the  trend  of  things  on  which  we  ground 
our  faith.  Formalism  of  any  kind  kills 
this  life ;  spontaneity  is  necessary  to  its 


134  In  Terms  of  Life. 

existence.  Spontaneity  is  the  overflow 
of  a  full  life.  Like  all  life,  it  is  fed  by 
exercise  with  its  kind.  The  greater  the 
freedom  and  the  wider  the  range  of  one's 
activities,  then,  the  larger  will  be  one's 
hold  on  spiritual  things.  This  explains 
Christ's  constant  warfare  Avith  the  ritual- 
ism and  rigid  Temple  system  in  his 
time,  and  the  battle  which  must  be  fought 
with  ecclesiasticism  at  all  times. 

When  people  come  to  believe  that  pay- 
ing the  expenses  of  a  church  is  a  chief 
part  of  religion,  or  uttering  certain  words 
is  worship,  or  saying  speeches  in  stated 
meetings  is  service,  or  doing  anything  for 
the  sake  of  doing  -it,  and  not  because  it 
really  expresses  life,  then  the  spiritual 
life  disappears,  and  cold  and  formal  and 
sterile  is  that  which  remains. 


ENVIRONMENT. 

.  .  .  GOD,  iii  the  sense  of  Father, 
and  all  its  derivatives,  is  not  in  the  envi- 
ronment of  the  animal  at  all.  Nor  is  my 
God  in  the  environment  of  lower  men. 
There  is  a  God  in  their  environment; 
they  fear,  they  recognize  sequences,  but 
they  have  not  risen  into  fellowship  with 
him,  nor  detected  personality.  .  .  . 

Growth  is  possible  only  by  the  putting 
away  of  old  things,  and  old  things  are 
put  away  because  new  things  are  offered. 
It  is  not  easy  to  put  away  old  things  — 
regeneration  is  not  a  painless  process, 
and  it  is  a  continuous  one.  Fitness  to 
live,  socially  or  spiritually,  is  demon- 
started  only  by  sacrifice  and  breaking 
with  the  past. 

We  grasp  some  great  thought  to-day, 
and  we  must  readjust  our  lives  to  it— 
rise  into  its  level.  Angels  of  light  hold 
greater  thoughts  over  our  heads.  We 

135 


136  In  Terms  of  Life. 

can  strive  for  them,  and  so  grow  taller, 
or  we  can  spend  our  time  with  what  we 
have,  and  after  a  while  the  angels  will 
stop  coming. 

When  angel  hands,  at  God's  behest, 

Reach  from  the  light  o'erhead 
The  viands  rare,  from  tables  where 

The  sons  of  God  are  fed, 
The  children  grow,  who  strive  to  grasp; 

The  Father's  love  is  guiding. 
And  men  grow  tall  who  upward  reach 

For  that  the  clouds  are  hiding. 

Nature  is  constantly  putting  a  premium 
on  new  things.  .  .  .  The  worst  enemy 
of  the  better  is  the  good.  So  if  new 
thoughts  are  thrown  into  your  life  which 
show  you  something  better  than  you  ever 
knew  before,  that  which  was  best  before 
becomes  wrong. 

Christ  at  Nazareth  made  every  man  in 
the  village  unchristian,  whatever  his  life 
may  have  been  before.  The  pilgrims, 
with  their  higher  civilization,  made  it 
impossible  for  Indians  to  live,  as  savages, 
in  North  America.  That  Nature  saw  it 
so,  is  proved  by  their  disappearance.  A 


Environment.  137 

knowledge  of  medicine  and  the  laws  of 
health  makes  it  a  crime  to  ignore  this 
knowledge,  and  trust  to  charms  or  incan- 
tations. In  other  words,  increase  the 
environment  of  a  man,  and  he  must 
adapt  himself  to  the  wider  life,  or  lose 
what  he  has. 

But  mere  proximity  —  nearness  of  an 
object  to  an  individual  —  does  not  mean 
that  it  is  in  his  environment.  An  ignorant 
man  may  live  in  a  great  library,  and  learn 
nothing  from  it.  A  church  in  the  slums 
is  not  necessarily  among  the  influences 
that  act  upon  the  lives  of  the  people 
there ;  it  must  first  touch  their  lives. 

God,  to  be  in  man's  environment,  must 
be  reduced  to  human  terms — incarnated. 
We  must,  if  we  would  be  helpers  of  men, 
get  into  their  lives.  We  must  talk  to 
people,  if  we  wish  to  get  our  message 
into  their  environment,  in  their  own  lan- 
guage. Ask  a  boy  to  be  a  Christian,  and 
he  may  not  know  what  you  mean.  Begin 
by  asking  him  to  be  good  to  his  mother, 
or  kind  to  his  sister,  and  when  he  has 
achieved  these  in  a  very  small  degree  he 
will  by  them  be  lifted  into  higher  possi- 


138  In  Terms  of  Life. 

bilities.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  we  do 
well,  in  the  pulpit,  to  hold  up  in  so 
large  a  measure,  ideal  conditions  of  life. 
Would  it  not  be  wiser  to  take  out  of 
people's  lives  the  best,  and  show  how  it 
may  be  made  a  little  better  ? 

I  know  a  plucky  little  fellow  who  could 
hardly  keep  back  the  tears  one  day  be- 
cause he  could  not  walk  his  big  brother's 
stilts,  but  grew  very  happy  walking  some 
smaller  ones  made  to  fit  him.  And  one 
day  he  came  running  with  joy  in  his 
eyes,  crying,  "Oh,  father,  I  can  walk 
Harold's  stilts!"  Those  high  stilts  had 
been  in  his  environment  all  the  time,  but 
he  had  learned  to  walk  them  by  walking 
his  own. 


THE  NEW  BIRTH. 

I  AM  going  to  try  to  tell  you  what  Christ 
meant  by  these  words:  "Ye  must  be  born 
from  above,"  and  "partake  of  the  king- 
dom of  God."  I  shall  talk  very  simply, 
because  the  subject  is  exceedingly  pro- 
found, and  we  run  great  danger  of  leaving 
things  we  know  and  talking  about  things 
we  imagine. 

There  is  a  doctrine  of  the  new  birth. 
Under  many  forms  and  names  it  is  much 
talked  about  and  wrangled  over.  Doc- 
trines have  to  do  with  the  causes  of  things 
and  the  how  of  things,  and  here  where  w»- 
have  to  do  with  facts  alone  we  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  doctrines  about  them.  I 
shall  speak  of  the  fact  of  the  birth  from 
above.  It  is  not  a  doctrine  to  be  quar- 
reled about,  but  an  experience  to  be 
tested  by  any  one  who  wishes  to  earn  the 
right  to  talk  about  it. 

In  the  first  place,  the  kingdom  of  God 

139 


140  In  Terms  of  Life. 

that  Christ  speaks  of  here  is  a  figure,  a 
Jewish  figure.  Christ  always  means  by 
it  the  ideal  order,  when  right  and  justice 
and  truth  and  purity  will  prevail  here 
among  men,  when  the  things  we  feel 
ought  to  be  will  be,  when  man  will 
voluntarily  do  the  things  God  is  doing, 
and  the  ideal  conditions  that  we  make 
heaven  of  will  really  exist  here  on  earth. 
This  kingdom  of  God  really  exists  on 
earth  in  a  very  small  degree.  In  some 
degree  we  have  worked  it  into  our  pri- 
vate lives  and  our  social  lives.  Our 
institutions  and  our  practices  are  much 
nearer  the  ideal  than  those  of  our  fathers, 
and  this  progress  represents  so  much 
growth  toward  the  real  presence  of  the 
kingdom  here.  But  it  is  so  very,  very 
small,  when  we  compare  it  with  the 
ideal  state  of  affairs,  that  we  have  not 
yet  much  cause  for  pride. 

So  the  kingdom  of  God  is  something 
that  exists  chiefly  in  our  minds, — not 
wholly,  for  some  of  it  is  incarnated  in 
men  and  women,  and  conditions  and  laws. 
And  in  spite  of  our  ignorance  and  weak- 
ness and  perversity,  we  are  working  it 


The  New  Birth.  141 

out  of  our  minds  into  the  real  fabric  of 
life  every  day.  But  most  of  it  is  still 
unreal,  and  exists  in  our  minds,  or  is 
drawn  out  as  a  working  plan,  very  much 
as  an  architect  draws  the  structure  and 
makes  a  blue-print  of  it  before  he 
begins  to  embody  it  in  stone  and  wood. 
It  has  a  certain  existence,  and  when  a 
man  is  helping  place  the  stones  and  build 
the  structure  according  to  the  plans,  its 
reality  grows  on  him  daily,  but  we  can 
neither  weigh  it  nor  handle  it.  Its  exist- 
ence is  spiritual.  Not  every  man  who 
dresses  the  stones  that  are  to  form  its 
walls  can  comprehend  the  plans.  They 
are  meaningless  to  the  carrier  of  brick 
or  the  mixer  of  mortar.  Show  them  to 
these  lower  minds,  and  they  would  find 
them  incomprehensible.  I  saw  a  hod- 
carrier  take  up  a  blue-print  and  pu/xle 
over  it  sheepishly  for  a  while,  and  then 
put  it  down  and  go  back  to  his  mud- 
mixing  unenlightened.  I  was  a  little 
nearer  the  architect  in  my  culture,  and 
could  see,  from  my  higher  ground,  that 
this  child  of  the  mind  was  going  to  be 
worked  out  in  brick  and  the  verv  mortar 


142  In   Terms  of  Life. 

that  that  laborer  was  mixing.  I  had  some 
knowledge  that  he  had  not,  yet  I  had 
nothing  to  show  for  it  that  would  serve  as 
a  means  of  making  my  understanding  his. 

Now,  in  much  the  same  way  we  can 
detect  the  plans  of  the  Being  who  is 
building  his  mind  and  will  into  our 
world. 

We.  may  see  no  more  than  the  xtuff  we 
work  with.  We  may  think  only  in  terms 
of  matter  and  its  laws,  or  we  may  rise 
into  a  very  close  fellowship  with  the 
Builder  himself.  And  these  purposes  of 
his,  these  plans  he  is  working  out,  are 
the  kingdom  of  God  that  Christ  speaks 
of.  It  is  a  spiritual  kingdom,  and  while 
it  may  be  known,  yet  its  limits  cannot  be 
stated  in  terms  of  matter.  This  spiritual 
ideal  kingdom  is  very  real  to  some,  while 
others  are  hardly  conscious  of  its  exist- 
ence. Some  live  in  it  all  the  time,  and 
neglect  all  other  living,  so  that  the  spiri- 
tual work  itself  dies  because  it  lacks  the 
material  it  builds  with.  The  mixer  of 
mud  is  just  as  necessary  to  the  master 
builder  as  the  master  is  to  the  mixer  of 
mud.  And  some  who  are  faithfully  and 


The   New    Birth.  143 

truthfully  working  on  some  of  the  parts 
never  see  themselves  as  a  part  of  the 
great  whole,  and  so  lose  the  inspiration 
which  comes  to  all  who  partake  of  the 
kingdom.  When  all  is  as  it  should  be, 
the  hod-carrier  and  the  stone-cutter  will 
dignify  their  labors  by  entering  into  the 
plans  of  the  master. 

Now,  Christ  says  that  if  we  would  be 
partakers  of  this  kingdom  that  is  coming 
into  the  world  we  must  be  born  from 
above.  He  means  that  a  change  in  us 
must  come  which  will  enable  us  to  see 
God's  understanding  of  the  things  we  do. 

A  child  helps  in  some  household  task 
because  it  is  told  to  do  so.  But  after  a 
while  it  catches  some  of  its  mother's 
spirit  of  unselfishness,  and  now  it  helps 
because  it  realizes  that  its  life  and  the 
home  life  are  one.  Something  new  has 
come  to  it, —  come  from  its  higher  mother- 
life.  The  child  will  develop  this  until  it 
will  be  completely  united  with  its  mother. 
Tt  has  been  born  again  from  above. 

Or  to  take  the  former  illustration.  Sup- 
pose a  strike  :  the  hod-carriers  are  out; 
the  master  builder  away,  perhaps  misun- 


144  In  Terms  of  Life. 

derstood.  Some  friend  of  labor  sits  down 
beside  the  hod-carrier,  explains  the  plans, 
and  shows  the  purpose  of  the  master, 
shows  how  necessary  co-operation  is,  in- 
troduces master  and  laborer,  so  they  can 
talk  over  matters.  The  laborer  sees  things 
in  a  new  light.  He  is  willing  now  to  work 
for  the  glory  of  it.  He  has  caught  the 
spirit  of  the  thing;  the  building  is  his. 
He  has  been  born  again.  He  does  not 
cease  to  be  a  laborer.  This  new  spiri- 
tual life  is  not  a  substitute  for  his  other 
life.  It  is  added  to  it.  He  lives  more 
than  he  did  before.  This  friend  who 
understood  the  heart  of  the  builder  and 
the  heart  of  the  laborer  has  brought  to 
the  hod-carrier  new  life  which  is  more 
abundant  than  the  old.  Now,  some  such 
change  as  this  must  come  to  every  one 
who  washes  to  enter  into  any  kind  of  a 
sympathetic  understanding  of  God's  work. 
His  life  is  not  a  satisfied  one  until  he 
feels  that  the  thing  he  is  busy  with  is  a 
part  of  God's  system  and  that  he  and  all 
good  livers  are  working  at  the  same  thing. 
When  this  comes  a  man  is  a  member 
of  the  kingdom  and  is  born  from  above. 


FAITH. 

I  WISH,  at  the  outset,  to  secure  your 
interest  in  tins  word. 

It  is  not  an  attractive  subject,  for  faith  is 
made  a  mystery — a  something  intangible, 
which  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  understand. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  unrelated  to  natural 
causes — to  be  God-given,  and  bestowed 
on  man  for  the  asking.  A  lack  of  faith 
is  often  given  as  a  reason  for  God's  with- 
holding it.  It  is  urged  upon  all  who 
would  be  religious,  and  is  made  a  neces- 
sity upon  which  all  blessings  depend; 
yet,  unlike  all  other  necessities,  it  is 
difficult  to  acquire,  and  easy  to  lose. 

Now,  faith  is  a  perfectly  real  thing— 
as  real  as  religion.  I  wish  to  show  as 
plainly  as  I  am  able,  how  important  and 
vital  it  is  to  our  religious  lives.  Many 
people  who  do  not  understand  how  they 
can  have  faith  in  God,  when  they  have 
never  tried  him  or  tested  him,  will  corn- 

14.r>  J 


146  In  Terms  of  Life. 

prehend  what  I  mean  by  faith  in  one's 
self.  I  wish  to  show,  first,  that  these 
expressions  mean  the  same. 

Our  ideals,  our  plans,  our  hopes  all 
lead  us  toward  the  unseen.  Between  us 
and  God,  representing  more  than  any- 
thing else  the  hold  God  has  upon  us,  are 
the  dreams  we  hope  to  realize  during 
our  university  course.  Our  religious 
lives  are  identified  with  these  dreams. 

Show  me  the  things  you  hope  for,  and 
I  will  write  a  definition  of  your  God. 
Some  can  see  God  only  through  their 
own  wishes  and  self-centered  desires. 
Others  rise  so  far  above  themselves  that 
they  seem  to  look  back  at  the  world 
through  God's  eyes  and  to  see  what  other 
people  want,  and  just  where  and  how  to 
help.  To  me,  our  school  life  is  religious. 
Where  one  is  pulling  wires  toward  him- 
self, a  score  are  trying  to  make  others 
comfortable  and  happy.  And  the  good 
feeling  which  comes  from  this  is  really 
God-feeling,  and  would  not  come  unless 
we  had  forgotten  ourselves  in  the  pursuit 
of  the  ideal  life  where  the  interests  are 
common. 


Faith.  147 

The  pursuit  of  our  ideals  is  a  large 
part  of  our  religion;  it  needs  but  the 
added  element  of  worship  to  make  it 
complete.  And  this  will  come  when  we 
recognize  that  these  leadings  toward 
better  things— these  ideals,  these  things 
we  hope  for — are,  one  and  all,  God  touch- 
ing us  and  manifesting  himself  to  us. 

When  we  can  look  our  ideal  in  the 
face  and  say,  "My  Lord  and  my  God," 
then  we  have  become  religious.  The 
thing  I  most  long  for  here,  is  to  see 
that  you  each  identify  the  good  you 
tind  within — the  best  you  recognize  in 
your  own  lives — with  the  All-father 
without. 

You  will  never  really  believe  that  God 
is  your  Father  or  recognize  your  own 
sonship,  until  you  see  that  you  want  to 
do  things  as  God  does  them,  that  good- 
ness and  truth  mean  just  the  same  for 
you  as  they  mean  for  him  who  rules  all 
things.  Then,  like  a  very  little  child, 
you  say,  "Why,  I  am  like  my  Father;  I 
do  things  the  way  he  does."  No  man  can 
be  of  much  use  to  the  world  until  he  can 
call  the  Creator — the  great  force  back  of 


148  In  Terms  of  Life. 

all  things — Father.  "  Father  "  includes 
the  recognition  of  likeness,  the  identi- 
fication of  our  ideals  —  the  things  we 
hope  for  —  with  God.  It  includes  the 
implication  of  sonship.  Do  you  remem- 
ber when  you  reached  up  so  far  to  take 
hold  of  one  finger  of  your  father's  hand, 
and  tried  to  step  as  far  as  he  did,  and 
understood  that  you  could  grow  like 
him  and  do  the  things  he  did  ? 

It  is  a  great  event  in  a  boy's  life  when 
he  can  say,  "I  and  my  father  are  one." 
It  is  greater,  when  a  man  finds  that  he 
can  keep  step  with  God;  that  he  wants  to 
do,  and  can  do,  the  things  that  God  is 
doing.  But  the  term  father  includes  one 
thing  more.  It  brings  in  the  family  feel- 
ing, that  links  our  lives  to  the  lives  of 
others  and  makes  our  interests  common. 
I  have  gloried  in  the  development  of  a 
child  from  the  period  where  her  inter- 
ests were  in  her  own  affairs  to  that  where 
she  cared  for  the  things  her  brothers 
needed.  I  have  said,  "We  have  another 
member  of  the  family,  another  partner." 

So  in  the  University  life,  when  I  see  a 
student  interested  in  the  lives  of  his  fel- 


Faith.  149 

lows,  I  know  he  has  caught  the  spirit  of 
the  University,  and  that  our  great  body 
is  stronger  by  another  member. 

Now,  there  is  an  esprit  de  corps  for  the 
race.  When  a  man  feels  the  same  kind 
of  interest  in  his  fellows  that  he  feels  in 
the  members  of  his  own  household, — 
when  he  cares  whether  his  brother  is 
well  housed,  or  well  clothed,  or  well 
educated,— he  has  caught  this  racial 
wprit  de  carps,  and  feels  toward  the  race 
just  as  God  feels.  For  God  is  bringing 
it  to  pass  that  all  men  shall  be  well 
cared-for.  You  can  judge  of  your  faith, 
therefore,  and  define  it,  by  studying  your 
own  attitude  toward  these  great  ques- 
tions— God,  and  self,  and  man. 

Faith  is  the  hold  you  have  on  the 
ideal,  the  distinctness  of  your  vision  of 
these  relationships.  It  is  the  evidence 
you  have  that  your  plans  and  desires  and 
hopes  will  be  realized.  You  surely  would 
not  give  much  time  to  service  of  God  or 
of  fellows  unless  you  believed  it  would 
pay.  If  you  believe  that  you  and  God 
are  alike  and  one,  it  is  because  your  life 
is  proving  it  to  you.  If  you  look  ahead 


150  In  Terms  of  Life. 

into  the  future,  and  see  how  you  can  be 
of  some  use,  and  make  something  of 
yourself,  and  become  like  the  dream  of 
the  father  there  is  within  you,  and  if  you 
are  willing  to  work  here  four  years  to 
realize  your  dream,  your  hope  is  founded 
upon  some  real  evidence  that  things  will 
go  your  way.  That  evidence  is  your 
faith.  It  represents  what  you  are,  and 
connects  your  past  with  your  future. 

When  men  search  with  so  much  heart- 
ache for  faith  in  order  that  they  may 
believe,  they  think  they  are  groping  in 
the  darkness  to  find  God.  They  think  if 
they  can  only  find  him,  they  will  get 
faith  from  him.  It  is  not  faith  in  God 
that  they  need,  but  faith  in  themselves. 
They  know  God  will  do  his  part.  They 
have  perfect  confidence  that  he  will  run 
the  universe  all  right.  It  is  self-confi- 
dence that  men  need,  belief  that  they  can 
do  their  part.  No  man  ever  falls  away 
from  God  and  loses  confidence  in  him 
until  he  has  first  warped  and  twisted  his 
life  by  falling  away  from  himself.  In 
other  words,  faith  does  not  depend  upon 
anything  God  does  or  may  do,  in  answer 


Faith.  151 

to  our  prayers,  but  upon  us, —  upon 
our  training,  our  experience,  our  knowl- 
edge. 

The  University  has  much  to  give  us; 
our  power  to  take  depends  upon  our- 
selves. Heaven  will  not  supply  the  lack- 
ing of  a  lazy  life.  It  is  full  of  blessings 
for  those  who  seek  them, —  great  arm- 
fuls  waiting  for  great  arms  to  reach 
them.  Puny,  untrained  arms  can  carry 
only  little  loads,  and  Heaven  is  not 
responsible  for  untrained  arms.  People 
who  expect  to  receive  much,  must  be 
prepared  to  receive  much.  If  you  go  to 
the  well  with  a  little  bucket,  you  must 
expect  to  draw  only  a  little  water. 

As  the  will  is  the  man  willing,  so 
belief  is  the  man  believing.  A  man  in 
the  full  possession  of  all  his  powers  is  a 
man  of  faith. 

And  yet  men  confess  lack  of  faith  with 
so  little  shame !  They  are  content  to  act 
like  babes  in  religious  matters.  They 
would  not  dare  confess  that  they  were 
ignorant,  would  not  speak  above  a 
whisper,  if  they  told  you  that  they  were 
bankrupt,  but  yet  exhibit  a  kind  of  pious, 


152  In  Terms  of  Life. 

though  melancholy,  pride  in  telling  you 
that  they  are  religious  fizzles.  As  if  God 
were  responsible !  Just  so,  an  habitual 
loafer  will  always  blame  the  Government 
if  he  is  out  of  work. 

The  danger  that  some  fear  from  social- 
ism and  kindred  movements,  will  never 
come  from  those  who  vote  their  con- 
victions. They  are  patriots;  forgetting 
themselves,  remembering  their  country. 
The  danger  will  come  from  those  who 
blame  the  Government  for  their  own 
failures  and  seek  to  vote  the  accumula- 
tions of  industry  into  the  hands  of  idle- 
ness. They  are  parasites,  not  patriots, 
who  cling  to  new  movements,  misrepre- 
senting them,  and  misusing  them  for 
selfish  ends.  And  so  with  the  Church. 
She  must  go  before  the  world  with  a 
load  of  weaklings  who  importune  Heaven 
for  that  which  they  should  themselves 
supply.  They  think  that  keeping  them- 
selves humble  and  inefficient  is  "being 
like  little  children,"  and  have  not  yet 
learned  the  truth  that  the  power  of  a 
church  depends  upon  the  character  of 
its  men  and  women  just  as  much  as  the 


Faith.  1 53 

power  of  a  banking-house  depends  upon 
the  integrity  of  its  employees. 

Here  are  two  views  of  faith :  A  little 
girl  once  woke  from  an  unpleasant 
dream,  left  her  bed,  and  passed  out 
into  the  hall  calling  to  her  father.  He 
stepped  into  the  hall  below,  and  seeing 
above  him  the  little  sunny-haired,  white- 
robed  figure,  thought  to  test  her  confi- 
dence in  him.  Reaching  out  his  arms  to 
her,  he  said,  "Jump,  Gertie,"  and  with- 
out an  instant's  hesitation,  she  jumped 
into  the  darkness  and  was  safe  in  her 
father  s  arms.  This  was  not  faith,  but 
inexperience  ;  she  believed  in  her  father, 
not  in  herself. 

To  me  there  is  no  better  example  of 
faith  than  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist, 
who  had  tested  God  through  a  long  life  : 
"  I  have  been  young,  and  now  am  I  old ; 
yet  have  I  not  seen  the  righteous  for- 
saken, nor  his  seed  begging  bread."  Or 
the  twenty-third  Psalm:  "Yea,  though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  thou 
art  with  me;  thy  rod  and  thy  stafl' 
they  comfort  me.  Surely  goodness  and 


154  In  Terms  of  Life. 

mercy  shall   follow   me  all  the  days  of 
my  life." 

So  I  make  this  assertion,  that  faith  — 
faith  in  self,  faith  that  puts  God  to  the 
test,  faith  that  links  God  and  man,  and 
is  the  key  to  all  the  riches  of  heaven- 
is  the  result  of  experience,  and  is  to  be 
won  like  any  other  power,  by  persistent 
and  constant  exercise.  You,  and  you 
alone,  hold  the  key  to  your  heaven. 

I  will  try  to  show  how  this  is  true. 
Carlyle  says,  "Hope  is  the  great  constant 
in  a  man's  life."  We  live  not  for  what 
we  have,  but  for  what  we  want  —  hope 
for.  "  This  is  a  great  truth  ;  it  uncovers 
the  divine  part  of  us.  To  live  with  only 
a  recognition  of  our  present  possibilities, 
to  draw  all  our  joy  and  comfort  from 
such  things  as  we  can  now  get  under  our 
touch  and  sight,  as  so  many  are  telling 
us, —  this,  I  conceive  to  be  thoroughly 
brutish.  It  makes  man  but  another  bird 
among  the  trees,  or  another  insect  hum- 
ming in  the  evening  air.  But  to  hope 
and  wait  for  the  highest  and  best  we  can 
conceive, —  this  expands  life,  and  makes 
it  as  large  as  infinity.  This  affords  a 


Faith.  155 

field  for  the  solution  of  its  mysteries,  for 
the  cure  of  its  ills,  for  regaining  some  of 
the  lost  things,  for  realizing  the  complete 
union  with  God  for  which  man  always 
strives." 

But  how  do  we  know  that  these  enchant- 
ing dreams  will  ever  be  realized?  It  is 
easy  to  build  air-castles,  another  thing  to 
believe  they  will  become  real. 

Is  there  any  evidence  for  these  things 
we  hope  for?  First,  examine  the  future. 
It  is  dark.  We  peer  into  its  formless 
void,  and  tremble  before  its  emptiness. 
We  call  God,  and  hear  the  taunting 
echoes  of  our  own  despair.  Hope  is 
not  a  bird  of  night  that  pushes  across 
that  dark  gulf,  and  expects  us  to  follow. 
Hope  is  one  of  the  three  things  that 
abide  with  us.  We  get  nothing  from  the 
future  ;  let  us  look  behind.  There  much 
becomes  clear.  Some  of  us  have  been  a 
long  time  with  the  past,  and  have  learned 
to  see  God  in  it.  Life  has  been  a  period 
of  testing.  We  have  been  tested,  and  we 
have  tested  God.  He  has  never  failed. 
We  have  never  found  him  anywhere  but 
at  our  sides.  We  have  sought  him,  in 


156  In  Terms  of  Life. 

the  heaven  away  from  our  life,  and  have 
cried  many  times,  like  Philip,  "  Show  us 
the  Father." 

But  we  have  always  found  him  in  some 
incarnation  who  stands  by  our  side,  or 
rests  in  our  hearts.  As  we  have  failed, 
we  find  that  our  confidence,  our  belief  in 
self  and  in  our  future,  is  shaken.  We 
hope  for  much,  but  do  not  have  the  evi- 
dence that  makes  its  coming  certain.  As 
we  have  stood  unflinching,  and  have  quit 
ourselves  like  men,  we  have  come  to  be- 
lieve in  ourselves,  and  have  acquired  a 
strong  confidence  in  regard  to  the  future. 
We  have  abundant  evidence  from  the 
past — -we  have  grown  a  man  of  belief 
within  us.  So,  when  the  future  asks  its 
questions,  we  look  within  and  find  the 
answer  there.  So  we  acquire  the  power 
of  walking  without  fear  or  question  into 
the  future,  because  the  past  has  made  us 
believers.  And  our  belief,  our  faith,  is 
the  evidence  that  the  things  we  hope  for 
shall  come  to  pass.  We  are  daily  mak- 
ing our  past  —  laying  the  foundation  for 
hope,  'if  we  daily  walk  with  God,  the 
future  will  be  full  of  God. 


Faith.  157 

But  some  one  says,  "  This  puts  the 
whole  responsibility  of  my  religious  life 
and  my  future  life  upon  me."  That  is  just 
where  it  ought  to  be.  Instead  of  putting 
ourselves  in  the  attitude  of  pensioners 
on  God's  bounty,  let  us  be  what  all  true 
children  are  —  partners  and  co-laborers. 

The  weakest  can  be  stronger  if  he  will, 
and  as  we  acquire  belief  in  ourselves 
doubts  will  vanish.  Faith  is  the  momen- 
tum of  a  life  of  righteousness;  the  dis- 
tance into  the  future  a  life  can  run  that 
has  been  running  right  in  the  past. 


WOKK. 

AN  iron-foundry,  a  flour-mill,  a  brick- 
kiln derive  their  names  and  their  char- 
acters not  from  the  rough  material  they 
receive,  but  from  the  articles  they  give 
out.  It  is  so  with  men.  We  measure 
them  not  by  their  accumulations  or  their 
knowledge ;  they  are  just  what  they  give 
out  to  us. 

Character  seems  to  be  made,  more  by 
the  "output"  of  our  lives  than  by  the 
"intake."  It  is  well  to  learn;  it  is  better 
to  teach.  It  is  well  to  receive ;  it  is  bet- 
ter to  give.  Often  we  overlook  this,  and 
when  we  find  ourselves  suffering  from 
spiritual  ennui  or  disordered  religiously, 
we  rush  to  some  soothing-syrup.  That 
brings  artificial  feeling  of  comfort  and 
ease,  but  fails  to  attack  the  disease  at  its 
very  roots. 

For  it  is  a  disease.  I  have  no  good 
name  for  it,  but  it  is  common.  There 

158 


Work.  159 

are  many  people  who  can  eat  great 
hearty  meals  and  do  nothing  whatever 
with  them,  unless  sitting  with  kindred 
spirits  magnifying  gnats  until  they  are 
as  big  as  elephants,  or  mole-hills  until 
they  swell  mountain  high,  is  doing  some- 
thing. 

Or  sometimes  the  disease  passes 
through  another  phase  and  affects  the 
brain.  Great  thoughts,  abstracted  from 
life  by  master  hands,  are  taken  in  until 
the  gorged  intellect,  confused  and  dazed, 
sees  visions  and  dreams  dreams  that  life 
can  never  realize,  and  that  unfit  the  un- 
happy victim  for  social  fellowship  with 
those  who  toil  and  bear  burdens. 

We  hear.  We  store  our  minds  and 
note-books  with  rules  and  maxims.  We 
know  how  to  live.  But  this  is  not  life. 
When  our  knowledge  becomes  motive, 
and  only  as  it  becomes  motive,  does  it 
pay  us  for  its  getting.  Only  that  part  of 
our  knowledge  or  our  conviction  which 
becomes  action  solidities  into  character. 
All  the  rest  is  like  the  sand,  blown  by 
the  winds, —  mountain-high  at  times,  but 
fleeting. 


160  In  Terms  of  Life. 

There  is  a  class,  and  many  of  us  belong 
to  it,  that  is  especially  tempted  to  lead 
an  unnatural  life.  All  of  us  have  to  give 
a  certain  portion  of  our  time  to  living,  to 
bread  and  butter  and  clothes  and  taking 
care  of  our  bodies.  During  that  time  we 
are  safe.  We  are  working  for  what  we 
receive.  That  is  always  perfectly  safe. 
It  is  of  the  remaining  time  that  I  speak 

—  the  time  you  have  left  after  this  neces- 
sary work   is   done,  your   spare   time, — 
that  is,  over  and  above  what  you  give  to 
maintain  your  body.     This  time  is  beset 
with  danger.     It  is  so  easy  to  become  a 
recipient,  to  read  good  things  and  listen 
to  good  things.     It  is  really  hard  to  be- 
come a  giver.     We  have  to  compel  our- 
selves.    Our  natural  laziness,  fed  by  this 
atmosphere  of  laziness,  would  keep  us 
lolling  about  the  easy  chairs  all  day  long, 
did  we  not  drive  ourselves   into  exercise. 

And  there  is  a  certain  kind  of  apathy 

—  fed  by  lecture  courses,   sometimes  — 
that  makes  it  easy  for  us  to  keep  our 
best  thoughts  to  ourselves,  and  hard  for 
us  to  hunt  up  some  fellow  and  give  them 
to  him. 


Work.  161 

When  we  overeat  at  the  table  our 
obliging  and  much-abused  stomachs  take 
care  of  the  material  as  long  as  they  can, 
work  it  over,  pass  it  into  the  system  until 
all  the  store-chambers  are  full ;  then  our 
heads  get  to  aching,  and  our  eyes  are 
blurred,  and  blue  devils  keep  us  com- 
pany, and  we  cannot  see  things  clearly. 
So  some  analogous  symptoms  are  always 
found  in  those  who  hear  and  do  not  do. 
The  disordered  mind  begins  to  doubt 
and  fear,  and  sees  strange  visions  of 
esoteric  unrealities  and  grotesque  phil- 
osophies. And  theories  that  never  can 
be  lived  cloud  the  life. 

Our  doubts  and  fears  and  vagaries  will 
vanish  when  we  begin  living  again — just 
as  clouded  eyes  and  dull  aches  will  dis- 
appear when  we  take  a  day's  outing. 

I  need  not  further  emphasize  the  call 
to  work.  Surely  I  have  done  that  in 
these  lectures.  I  have  tried  to  show 
that  it  is  laid  upon  every  living  thing, 
and  upon  every  part  of  every  living 
thing — necessary  to  our  very  existence. 
It  is  more  important  that  men  should  be 
given  something  to  do  than  something  to 


162  In  Terms  of  Life. 

eat.  We  learn  far  more  through  activity 
than  through  meditation  or  reading  or 
listening  to  sermons  or  lectures. 

Some  of  you  have  wished  that  these 
words  of  mine  were  printed  that  you 
might  read  them  over  and  talk  them 
over.  I  should  rather  fear  the  result. 
The  only  good  that  can  come  to  any  of 
you  through  these  lectures  is  to  forget 
the  words  and  put  into  action  the  emo- 
tion. If  you  have  been  changed,  the 
change  is  the  important  thing.  Let  the 
words  go. 

Now,  I  wish  to  show  you  that  in  the 
"Kingdom"  work  is  the  primary  thing, 
activity  is  the  essential  thing.  Pay — that 
is  of  secondary  importance.  How  many 
people  waste  their  lives  working  for  pay, 
instead  of  working  for  work.  Was  it 
Lessing  who  said,  "If  God  should  put 
in  one  hand  all  truth  and  in  the  other 
the  search  for  truth,  I  would  throw  away 
the  truth,  and  spend  eternity  in  the 
search"? 

We  carry  our  misconception  into  the 
religious  life,  and  make  sensation  and 
emotion  the  end  of  religious  activity. 


Work.  163 

We  perform  tasks  in  order  that  we  may 
feel  good.  We  praise  that  meeting  that 
arouses  our  emotions,  as  if  a  man  or 
woman  had  no  other  reason  for  being 
than  to  feel  good.  Religious  enjoy- 
ment, like  every  other  enjoyment,  is  only 
incidental.  Many  try,  and  succeed  too, 
in  purchasing  feeling  by  working  for  it. 
They  exchange  services  or  rituals  for 
emotion  just  as  they  would  give  money 
for  a  narcotic  —  so  much  sensation  for  so 
many  pennies. 

The  church  is  not  a  mere  club  to  pro- 
mote enjoyment;  nor  is  its  work  pri- 
marily to  promote  the  devotion  and 
worship  of  its  members.  The  church  is 
to  disciple  all  nations,  reform  all  society, 
enlighten  all  moral  darkness,  alleviate 
all  distress.  Let  it  do  that  work,  and  it 
cannot  escape  emotion  and  increased  de- 
votion. Take  hold  and  help,  and  you 
will  have  more  emotion  than  you  know 
what  to  do  with.  To  try  to  be  religious 
while  neglecting  urgent  duty  is  to  begin 
at  the  wrong  end.  Religion  must  be 
thoroughly  mixed  with  usefulness  to 
keep  it  wholesome. 


164  In  Terms  of  Life. 

There  are  two  views  of  life.  We  may 
choose  either. 

One  is  to  ask,  "  How  much  am  I  worth  ? 
What  have  I  done?  How  much  will  my 
services  purchase  me?  What  can  I  get 
out  of  the  world?"  The  other  is  to  ask, 
"What  am  I?  How  much  can  I  give? 
How  much  can  I  do?"  Work  is  the 
means — the  end  is  man.  Enjoyment  or 
position  are  incidental  accompaniments 
that  Always  come  when  you  work  a  man. 

The  man  who  works  for  pay  is  not  the 
best  worker.  A  teacher  whose  object  in 
teaching  is  to  draw  a  salary  is  not  cap- 
able of  imparting  to  his  pupils  what  they 
need.  But  if  he  enters  earnestly  into 
his  task  and  teaches  for  the  sake  of 
teaching,  he  forgets  the  pay,  and  excels 
in  his  work.  This  truth  holds  in  reli- 
gion. He  who  does  good  because  it 
pays  may  not  be  good,  but  he  who  is 
good  does  good  without  thought  of  re- 
ward. 

Bargaining  prevents  being.  The  man 
who  goes  through  life  thinking  only  of 
the  heaven  at  the  end  of  it,  is  apt  to 
experience  many  of  the  tortures  of  hell 


Work.  165 

on  his  journey.  It  is  hard  enough  to 
lay  by  money.  It  is  far  harder  to  lay  by 
character  and  good  deeds  with  which 
to  purchase  eternal  life.  The  young 
man  who  came  to  Jesus  and  asked, 
"What  good  thing  shall  I  do  that  I  may 
have  eternal  life?"  had  spent  his  life 
accumulating  virtues,  but  had  forgotten 
to  be. 

We  look  to  heaven  for  the  mysterious 
wedding  garment,  and  hope  that  it  may 
tit  us  when  we  put  it  on.  We  overlook 
the  fact  that  it  is  being  formed  now  in 
our  very  tissues,  fitting  us  as  closely  as 
our  habits,  and  more  nearly  like  us  than 
our  shadows. 

"  Long,  long  ago  there  lived  a  saint  so 
good  that  the  astonished  angels  came 
down  from  heaven  to  see  how  a  mortal 
could  be  so  godly.  He  simply  went 
about  his  daily  life,  diffusing  virtue  as 
the  star  diffuses  light,  and  the  flower 
perfume,  without  even  being  aware  of 
it.  Two  words  summed  up  his  day:  he 
gave,  he  forgave.  Yet  these  words  never 
fell  from  his  lips;  they  were  expressed 


166  In  Terms  of  Life. 

in  his  ready  smile,  in  his  kindness,  for- 
bearance, and  charity. 

"The  angels  said  to  God,  'O  Lord, 
grant  him  the  gift  of  miracles!'  God 
replied,  'I  consent;  ask  him  what  he 
wishes.' 

"So  they  said  to  the  saint,  'Should 
you  like  the  touch  of  your  hands  to  heal 
the  sick?'  'No,'  answered  the  saint;  'I 
would  rather  God  should  do  that.' 
'Should  you  like  to  convert  guilty  souls, 
and  bring  back  wandering  hearts  to  the 
right  path?'  'No;  that  is  the  mission 
of  angels.  I  pray  I  do  not  convert.' 
'Should  you  like  to  become  a  model  of 
patience,  attracting  men  by  the  luster  of 
your  virtues  and  thus  glorifying  God?' 
'No,'  replied  the  saint;  'if  men  should 
be  attached  to  me,  they  would  become 
estranged  from  God.  The  Lord  has 
other  means  of  glorifying  himself.' 
'What  do  you  desire  then?'  cried  the 
angels.  'What  can  I  wish  for?'  asked 
the  saint,  smiling.  'That  God  gives  me 
his  grace;  with  that  shall  I  not  have 
everything?' 

"  But  the  angels  insisted,    '  You  must 


Work.  167 

ask  for  a  miracle,  or  one  will  be  forced 
upon  you.'  'Very  well,'  said  the  saint; 
'that  I  may  do  a  great  deal  of  good 
without  ever  knowing  it!' 

"The  angels  were  greatly  perplexed. 
They  took  counsel  together,  and  resolved 
upon  the  following  plan:  Every  time 
the  saint's  shadow  should  fall  behind 
him  or  at  either  side,  so  that  he  could 
not  see  it,  it  should  have  the  power  to 
cure  disease,  soothe  pain,  and  comfort 
sorrow. 

"And  so  it  came  to  pass.  When  the 
saint  walked  along,  his  shadow,  thrown 
on  the  ground  on  either  side  or  behind 
him,  made  arid  paths  green,  caused 
withered  plants  to  bloom,  gave  clear 
water  to  dried-up  brooks,  fresh  color  to 
pale  little  children,  and  joy  to  unhappy 
mothers. 

"  But  the  saint  simply  went  about  his 
daily  life,  diffusing  virtue  as  the  star 
diffuses  light,  and  the  flower  perfume, 
without  ever  being  aware  of  it.  And  the 
people,  respecting  his  humility,  followed 
him  silently,  never  speaking  to  him  about 
his  miracles.  Little  by  little,  they  even 


168  In  Terms  of  Life. 

came  to  forget  his  name,  and  called  him 
only  'The  Holy  Shadow.'" 

So  the  power  of  the  helper  lies  first 
in  his  power  of  becoming  unconscious, 
of  forgetting  himself  and  any  reward, 
and  losing  himself  in  his  work.  And 
this  faculty  for  losing  one's  self  in  work 
can  come  only  by  practice.  Begin  to 
carry  other  people's  burdens,  and  look 
for  trials  and  chances  to  help;  you  will 
be  awkward  at  first,  as  when  you  first 
rode  a  wheel,  but  you  will  soon  become 
expert  and  unconscious.  And  if  you  ever 
have  time  to  examine  yourself  for  feel- 
ing, you  will  find  you  are  wonderfully 
happy. 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  so  many  ask. 
They  look  for  some  great  thing.  Big 
sacrifices  are  easier  than  little  ones.  You 
probably  are  not  fit  for  a  great  work,  or 
you  would  be  doing  it.  But  you  are 
working  in  the  truest  sense  when  you 
identify  the  lives  of  others  with  your 
own.  And  I  mean  the  whole  life.  We 
narrow  the  conception  of  religious  work, 
and  make  it  mean  teaching  a  Sunday- 


Work.  169 

school  class,  or  visiting  the  poor  and  the 
prisons.  Do  you  know  that  some  of  the 
Lord's  poor  sit  in  palaces  with  their 
hands  chained  by  luxury,  and  so  im- 
prisoned by  social  customs  that  the  God 
in  them  is  dying?  And  you,  if  you  touch 
them  at  all,  might  take  the  poor  sick 
divinity  out  walking  for  a  while.  A  new 
thought  will  do  it — a  breath  of  the  fresh 
air  of  life. 

Anything  whatever  that  widens  the 
horizon  of  a  man,  that  makes  two  rush- 
lights burn  where  but  one  burned  before, 
that  sweetens  a  moment  of  life,  the  least 
drop  you  take  from  the  bitterness  that 
tills  so  many  lives — this  is  religious 
work.  Do  it  with  your  might.  But  be 
tactful.  It  requires  endless  tact  to  help. 
No  one  can  be  a  helper  and  not  think 
and  plan  and  contrive.  It  costs  to  sym- 
pathize, for  true,  helpful  sympathy  means 
literally  feeling  just  as  others  do — a 
sensible  participation  in  their  joy  or 
woe.  And  we  cannot  become  real  help- 
ers until  we  sympathize.  Look  for  the 
fruits  of  your  work  not  in  what  you  do, 
nor  in  what  you  give.  A  large  share  of 


170  In  Terms  of  Life. 

these  will  always  be  hidden.  Look  into 
your  heart.  Measure  your  work  by  your 
life. 

For  God  withholds  the  harvest  store 
From  hands  that  cast  the  seed, 

And  hides  the  golden  treasures  in 
The  heart  that  felt  the  need. 

We  never  know  how  many  fold 

The  grain  has  multiplied; 
How  many  little  mouths  have  fed, 

How  much  has  failed  or  died. 

But  we  may  know  the  wealth  and  joy 
That  spring  from  freely  giving; 

The  gladdest,  maddest  joys  of  life 
Are  those  that  come  from  living. 

Count  not  your  garnered  treasures  o'er, 
They  are  but  seed  for  sowing; 

Throw  them  broadcast  into  the  world, 
And  know  the  joy  of  growing. 

Toil  not  to  increase  your  stores, 
God's  gifts  exceed  your  suing, 

But  toil  that  ye  may  Godlike  be, — 
Being  is  born  of  doing. 


SERVICE. 

IT  is  a  mistake  common  to  us  all  to 
think  that  looking  at  pleasing  aspects  of 
the  truth,  subjecting  ourselves  to  sensa- 
tions, hearing  good  things  about  things, 
is  adding  to  our  power  and  developing 
our  character. 

Sensations  are  within  the  reach  of  all. 
Preachers  deal  in  them  sometimes.  Our 
rituals  and  our  choirs  give  them.  There 
are  books  that  pile  up  great  waves  of 
emotion  in  us  almost  as  real  as  if  we  had 
earned  them.  I  have  read  of  battles  that 
were  so  vividly  portrayed  that  my  cold 
blood  grew  hot  and  I  felt  like  a  hero;  but 
I  cooled  down,  a  little  more  weary  than 
before, —  that  was  all.  I  have  listened 
to  great  preachers  who  talked  so  famil- 
iarly of  holy  things  and  made  them  so 
real  that  earth  has  seemed  dreary  when 
1  touched  it  again.  Emotions  are  dan- 
gerous things  unless  they  find  an  outlet 
in  action.  We  can  so  narcotize  ourselves 

171 


172  In  Terms  of  Life. 

with  holy  things  that  our  senses  will  lie 
to  us.  We  can  read  these  sayings  of  the 
Master  until  we  can  feel  like  Christians. 
We  can,  as  the  Buddhist  urges,  meditate 
on  holy  things  until  we  feel  as  though 
we  were  holy  too.  But  periods  of  rude 
awakening  come.  We  find  we  have  been 
hearing  and  not  doing,  saying  Lord ! 
Lord!  and  not  doing  God's  will. 

I  would  not  appear  to  condemn  our 
emotions,  but  to  show  how  little  they 
mean, —  nay,  how  they  are  even  harmful, 
if  we  do  not  work  them  off  in  service. 
So  large  a  part  of  our  religion  is  emo- 
tional that  we  are  apt  to  think  this  is  all 
there  is  of  religion.  We  cry,  "  Could  we 
but  stand  where  Moses  stood,"  wishing 
we  might  live  all  the  year  round  in  the 
Holy  of  Holies  instead  of  once  a  year. 

I  would  not  live  where  men  are  not. 
But  turn  from  Holiest  Place 

To  let  the  lower  brother  see 
The  glory  in  my  face. 

Nor  could  I  dwell  on  Sinai's  top 
Alone  with  God  most  high; 

I  must  love  him  whose  lower  lot 
Knows  less  of  God  than  I. 


Service.  173 

Religion  has  in  it  two  elements  — 
receiving  and  giving.  We  are  in  danger 
of  thinking  too  much  of  what  God  can 
give  us,  of  what  our  church  is  to  us,  of 
how  we  can  change  our  lives  and  build 
our  characters.  This  is  the  only  way  not 
to  receive. 

Exercise  the  angel;  do  not  try  to  exor- 
cise the  devil.  No  animal  lives  for  itself, 
or  is  allowed  to  live  for  itself.  Nature 
executes  drones.  Until  a  man  has  learned 
to  give  and  to  train  himself  for  giving,  to 
work  for  others,  to  plan  and  study  for 
others,  to  live  for  others  and  spend  him- 
self for  others,  and  save  nothing  for  him- 
self, nature  exacts  pound  after  pound  of 
flesh  until  only  enough  remains  to  make 
a  fossil.  Men  groan  over  a  tenth.  The 
God  of  nature  exacts  all.  Our  nature 
exacts  all.  "Use  it,  or  lose  it."  All 
your  learning,  achievement,  discovery, 
your  good  times,  your  blessed  experi- 
ences have  not  found  the  reason  for 
their  existence  until  you  touch  the  heart 
of  humanity.  Our  hands  may  lose  all 
we  give  —  our  hearts  lose  nothing. 


SYMPATHY. 

EVERYWHERE  to-day  the  cry  of  the 
suffering  is  not,  "Oh,  for  somebody  to 
pity  me  !  "  but,  "If  only  somebody  could 
understand ! " 

Sympathy  is  what  the  world  needs 
rather  than  pity.  Sympathy  requires  a 
free  use  of  the  imagination,  to  compre- 
hend the  experience  and  condition  of 
another.  People  long  more  than  any- 
thing else  to  be  understood.  "  Put  your- 
self in  his  place  "  is  old  advice,  and  it 
tits  most  of  the  relations  of  life.  It 
measures  the  power  of  the  speaker  over 
his  audience,  the  politician  over  his 
party,  the  preacher  over  the  pew,  the 
teacher  over  his  students,  and  your  power 
over  those  you  would  help. 

Putting  yourself  in  his  place  is  sym- 
pathy,—  nothing  else  can  be.  And  if  you 
are  planning  for  dominion  over  men  in 
any  way,  your  dominion  will  be  measured 

174 


Sympathy.  175 

by  your  understanding  of  them.  The 
fisherman  who  understands  things  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  trout,  is  the  one 
who  comes  home  with  a  full  basket.  The 
teacher  who  talks  from  the  student's 
standpoint,  is  the  good  teacher.  The 
friend  who  can  put  himself  in  your 
place,  is  the  friend  you  love  most.  And 
so  it  goes.  To  be  sure,  this  kind  of  sym- 
pathy costs.  People  in  trouble  do  not 
want  you  to  say,  "Poor  thing!"  —any 
one  can  say  that.  A  student  talking  over 
a  burden  heavier  than  most  students 
bear,  offered  me  no  way  of  helping. 
"What  can  I  do?"  I  asked.  "Nothing; 
I  knew  you  would  understand,"  was  the 
answer.  Since  I  have  learned  that  my 
power  to  help  people  rests  entirely  on 
my  ability  to  see  things  from  their  stand- 
point, I  have  been  very  glad  for  some  of 
my  deepest  losses,  because  they  have  ex- 
plained the  losses  of  others  to  me. 

But  you  are  not  going  to  be  able  to 
help  men  without  weighting  yourself  with 
their  burdens.  This  is  what  sympathy 
means — suffering  with  those  who  suffer. 
You  will  have  an  easier  time  if  you  do 


176  In  Terms  of  Life. 

not  take  my  advice  in  this  matter.  Do 
not  cultivate  your  sympathetic  nature, 
and  none  of  the  pains  or  troubles  of 
life  will  come  to  you  except  your  own. 
But  it  is  also  true  that  a  thousand  joys 
and  the  riches  of  noble  natures  will  be 
unknown  to  you. 

Sympathy  is  our  touch  with  our  fel- 
lows ;  and  we  are  made  by  our  fellows 
far  more  than  we  realize,  far  more  than 
by  any  other  influence  whatever.  So,  as 
a  part  of  your  training  for  life,  I  urge 
you  to  cultivate  and  develop  your  sym- 
pathies. 

"Follow  me,  and  I  will  make  you 
fishers  of  men,"  is  a  call  to  service, — 
not  a  call  to  be  religious  only,  but  to 
toil,  labor,  love.  And  it  involves  sacri- 
fice. One  mark  of  the  authenticity  of 
any  call  is  not  so  much,  will  it  pay?  as 
will  it  cost?  "If  you  do  not  buy  the 
world  with  your  blood,  you  will  never 
buy  it." 


PKAYER. 

PRAYER  is  the  heart  of  religion.  I 
recognize  the  fact  that  there  are  dangers 
attending  the  discussion  of  this  subject, 
and  I  hope  not  to  arouse  doubts  in  your 
minds.  By  reaching  a  better  understand- 
ing of  the  nature  of  prayer,  we  may  per- 
haps remove  some  of  the  difficulties. 

This  is  an  age  of  questioning,  and  we 
are  all  apt  to  mislead  ourselves,  to  think 
that  our  little  back  yards  are  God's  uni- 
verse. If  we  work  with  matter,  we  over- 
look spirit.  If  we  dwell  much  apart  with 
spiritual  things,  we  are  prone  to  deny 
matter.  Now,  I  believe  that  perfect  har- 
mony and  rest  can  be  found  only  when 
these  two  realms  are  equally  represented 
in  our  lives. 

The  question  is  often  asked,  "Does  not 
science  make  prayer  impossible  ? "  or, 
"Does  not  evolution  destroy  prayer?" 
Yes;  it  does  destroy  a  certain  kind  of 


177 


178  In  Terms  of  Life. 

prayer.  For  those  whose  God  is  away 
outside  of  this  world,  whose  prayer  is  a 
sort  of  beggary,  who  have  not  yet  risen 
into  the  conception  of  Fatherhood  and 
sonship,  who  do  not  participate  in  the 
divine  life  of  the  world,  but  hold  them- 
selves off  to  one  side  as  spectators  and 
aliens, —  for  all  such,  science  does  destroy 
prayer.  It  ought  to. 

But  real  prayer  is  not  beggary;  it  is 
communion.  That  is,  two  beings  who 
have  the  same  natures  and  desires  and 
language  get  on  common  ground.  That 
is  communion,  and  that  is  prayer. 

Our  idea  of  prayer  is  intimately  con- 
nected with  our  idea  of  God.  God  adapts 
himself  to  men.  Many  pray,  "Thy  will 
be  done"  who  really  mean,  "My  will  be 
done."  It  is  strange,  marvelous,  how 
this,  the  holiest  and  at  the  same  time 
the  most  powerful  agent  within  man's 
reach,  is  degraded  by  selfishness  until  it 
becomes  the  means  of  separating  those 
whom  it  should  join. 

We  build  our  homes,  and  fill  them  with 
our  idols,  and  surround  them  with  our 
desires,  and  then  cry  to  God,  "Here  is 


Prayer.  179 

my  life;  these  are  my  precious  things; 
take  care  of  them,  and  I  will  bless  thee ; 
grant  my  desire,  and  I  will  extol  thee." 

And  then  when  we  are  led  out  into  a 
larger  life,  and  have  to  leave  some  of  our 
choicest  treasures  behind,  we  cry  aloud, 
"  O  Lord,  where  art  thou  ?  Why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me  ? "  It  often  takes  a 
long  life  to  realize  that  God  may  desert 
our  stuff,  that  he  may  refuse  to  live  in 
our  air-castle,  but  that  he  never  deserts 
us.  The  first  view  of  the  relation  be- 
tween God  and  man  is  the  child's  view.. 
All  centers  in  self.  The  love-light  in 
the  mother's  eyes  shines  but  to  bless ; 
the  child  asks  and  expects  everything. 
After  a  while,  when  he  has  risen  into 
the  realm  of  fellowship,  he  and  his 
mother  talk  over  the  things  that  are  best 
for  both  of  them. 

Man  can  conform  to  God's  will  when 
he  grasps  the  great  idea  that  he  is  the 
child  of  God,  being  made  in  his  imago, 
having  his  very  nature,  and  capable  of 
infinite  growth  toward  him.  Then  he 
understands  that  his  chief  business  in 
life  is  to  find  God's  will  and  do  it.  When 


180  In  Terms  of  Life. 

he  realizes  that  his  whole  life  is  wrapped 
up  in  God,  that  he  can  exist  only  as  he 
conforms  to  God's  will,  that  he  can  suc- 
ceed in  nothing  that  is  contrary,  and  in 
everything  that  is  parallel,  to  that  will, 
then  his  prayer  is  not  "Give  me  my 
way,"  but  "Thy  will  be  done." 

God's  definition  of  righteousness  and 
man's  are  the  same.  What  is  true  and 
right  and  best  for  God  is  also  true  and 
right  and  best  for  man.  Man  may  not 
have  risen  very  far  toward  God's  concep- 
tion of  these  things,  but  far  enough  to 
know  that  right,  so  far  as  he  knows  it,  is 
right. 

God's  superior  knowledge,  combined 
with  his  righteousness,  makes  him  im- 
mutable. I  mean  he  is  perfectly  consist- 
ent with  himself,  unchangeable;  constant 
as  sunshine,  but  constantly  good;  almost 
forcing  us  by  penalties  and  warnings  to 
choose  the  good.  This  is  the  God  of 
science,  and  of  the  Bible,  and  of  experi- 
ence, though  not  always  of  theology.  Do 
we  not  see  his  counterpart  in  a  wise 
father  who  knows  when  to  say  Yes,  and 
how  to  say  No,  and  always  says  what  is 


Prayer.  181 

best ;  not  yielding  to  teasing, —  withhold- 
ing even  when  it  hurts, —  yet  giving  all 
that  is  needed,  and  many  things  that  are 
not  prayed  for  ? 

In  times  of  great  stress  it  is  natural 
that  man  should  cry  for  special  things; 
but  we  must  never  forget,  when  we  think 
God  is  forsaking  us,  that  such  a  thing  is 
an  impossibility.  Our  very  conception 
and  definition  of  man  includes  the  God 
in  his  environment.  "The  hope  of  the 
future  lies  in  the  realization  by  individ- 
uals that  none  are  ever  for  a  moment 
forsaken  by  God;  that  the  ministry  of 
his  spirit  is  constant,  impartial,  pervasive, 
and  never-failing." 

But  I  hear  some  asking,  "What  is  the 
use  of  prayer?  If  God  will  not  give 
what  we  want  unless  it  is  best  for  us,  if 
he  will  give  what  we  need  whether  we 
ask  it  or  not,  why  not  sit  back  and  stoic- 
ally take  life  as  it  comes  ? "  I  hope  I 
have  suggested  the  answer  in  previous 
lectures,  where  I  have  endeavored  to 
show  how  far  man  may  grow,  and  how 
large  a  part  he  has  in  his  own  develop- 
ment. The  object  of  prayer  is  the  union 


182  In  Terms  of  Life. 

of  God  and  man,  and  this  is  possible  in 
two  ways:  by  changing  the  will  of  God, 
or  by  modifying  the  will  of  man.  The 
Father  may  go  to  the  prodigal  and,  if  we 
can  imagine  such  a  thing,  live  on  husks 
with  him,  and  help  him  feed  swine,  or 
the  son  may  go  to  the  Father  and  change 
his  life  to  adapt  it  to  the  life  of  the 
Father.  "The  essential  element  of  prayer 
is  to  bring  two  things  into  unison,  the  will 
of  God  and  the  will  of  man.  Supersti- 
tion imagined,  no  doubt,  that  prayer 
would  change  the  will  of  God;  but  the 
more  spiritually  minded  have  always 
understood  that  the  will  which  must  be 
modified,  was  the  will  of  man." 

I  do  not  believe  that  real  prayer  is 
ever  wasted.  No  man  who  has  talked 
with  God,  whatever  God's  message  to 
him  may  be,  whether  he  has  granted  or 
denied  that  man's  requests,  can  ever  come 
back  to  the  same  level  of  existence.  He 
is  a  little  higher,  a  little  nearer  his 
Father,  for  that  communion. 

The  elements  of  prayer  are  these : 
God's  will,  man's  will,  "I  will."  The 
first  represents  a  knowledge  of  all  things 


Prayer.  183 

good  and  evil;  the  second  represents  a 
choice  of  some  things  by  the  finite  one ; 
and  the  third  represents  man's  obedience 
to  God. 

Let  us  consider  some  objections  to  this 
view  of  prayer.  One  asks,  "Cannot  God 
overrule  his  own  laws  ?  "  Why  should 
he,  if  those  laws  express  his  nature  ?  "If 
God  should  wink  at  a  single  act  of  injus- 
tice, the  universe  would  fall  to  pieces." 

And  another  argues,  "If  God's  laws 
are  immutable,  then  men  are  not  free ; 
they  are  driven  whether  they  would  or 
not."  This  is  fatalism;  and  to  such  a 
one  I  would  answer,  we  are  free  under 
gravitation  or  any  law  of  physics  or 
chemistry,  yet  we  cannot  change  those 
laws. 

And  yet  another  exclaims,  "But  God 
is  unapproachable.  I  cannot  understand 
how  prayer  can  be  of  any  use.  Every 
individual  is  apparently  under  inflexible 
laws,  and  is,  in  the  end,  what  heredity  and 
environment  make  him."  That  is  true; 
but  so  far  from  making  the  case  des- 
perate, I  am  going  to  show  that  in  that 
very  fact  just  stilted  lies  the  foundation 


184  In  Terms  of  Life. 

of  our  assurance.  Man  is  the  product 
largely  of  heredity  and  environment,  but 
God  is  in  the  environment.  A  man  said 
recently,  "I  do  not  believe  in  prayer  or 
churches,  but  I  never  get  off  on  the  ocean 
without  experiencing  a  kind  of  uplift 
that  leaves  me  a  better  man."  Now,  by 
"uplift"  he  did  not  mean  seasickness, — 
he  was  an  old  sailor.  He  meant,  though 
he  did  not  say  it,  that  God's  spirit  and 
his  spirit  came  together  and  held  com- 
munion. God  is  in  our  environment,  and 
will  be  more  and  more  so  as  we  grow 
and  pray. 

"  Oh,  that  the  scales  from  our  blind  eyes 

Would  fall,  and  let  us  see 
The  Father's  hand  on  rock  or  cliff, 

On  bird  or  flower  or  tree  ! 
*  Qla,  that  our  deadened  ears  might  hear 

The  Omnipresent  One 
Whose  pulse-beat  echoes  in  our  hearts 
When  we  are  most  alone  !  " 

Let  me  ask  again,  What  constitutes 
human  environment  ?  Nature  is  a  part 
of  it;  also  men  both  in 'their  corporate 
and  spiritual  relations.  And,  beside 


Prayer.  185 

these,  there  is  an  environment  of  spirit, 
which  we  call  God. 

The  influences  that  mold  men  are  not 
all  material.  Society  is  not  made  up  of 
a  lot  of  physical  bodies.  "  Not  bodies, 
but  spirits,  constitute  the  social  environ- 
ment. The  Christian  doctrine  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  means  not  only  that  each 
man  is  surrounded  by  human  spirits,  but 
also  that  his  days  are  passed  in  the 
presence  of  the  absolute,  the  Universal 
Spirit  immanent  in  the  universe." 

Now,  it  is  just  as  surely  true  that  the 
spirit  of  man  can  commune  with  God, 
and  learn  his  will,  as  it  is  true  that 
friend  can  commune  with  friend.  And 
this  communion  is  prayer.  It  is  only  as 
we  are  materialists  that  we  fail  to  under- 
stand prayer.  As  we  rise  into  the  spiri- 
tual realm,  prayer  becomes  a 
And  there  is  an  active  element  in 
It  is  itself  the  chief  agency  by  which 
God  answers  prayer.  It  is  not  an  emo- 
tion alone.  Prayer  which  does  not  lead 
to  action  is  unworthy  the  name.  Prayer 
is  an  activity  of  the  whole  being.  We 
answer  many  of  our  own  prayers. 


BEST. 

How  lightly  we  play  with  eternal  things 
sometimes  !  In  our  religious  talk  great 
big  words  are  emptied  of  their  infinite 
significance  and  thrown  back  and  forth 
as  lightly  as  tennis-balls.  We  talk  of 
heaven  as  glibly  as  if  it  were  in  the  next 
county,  and  describe  the  inner  workings 
of  the  heart  of  the  Eternal  as  though  it 
were  our  own.  As  we  grow  wiser,  we 
talk  less,  and  our  words  grow  heavy  with 
thought.  There  is  one  word  I  wish  to 
load  with  heavier  meaning.  .  .  . 

We  perhaps  have,  each  one  of  us,  a 
meaning  for  rest.  I,  of  course,  do  not 
ean  to  discuss  here  the  various  devices 
for  doing  nothing.  Men  wrork  harder 
sometimes  doing  nothing  than  in  the  per- 
formance of  a  task.  But  by  rest  I  mean 
freedom  from  care  and  worry,  from  fear 
that  things  are  not  going  right  —  chafing 
and  fretting,  worries  great  and  small. 

186 


Rest  187 

Would  it  not  be  a  grand  thing  to  be  rid 
of  all  of  these  ?  We  think  it  would, 
though,  as  I  shall  show,  many  of  us  have 
really  a  good  time  with  our  woes,  and 
would  be  at  a  great  loss  to  know  what  to 
talk  about  if  we  did  not  have  them. 
Note  the  melancholy  strain  running 
through  our  talk  sometimes ;  and  in  our 
hymnals  we  find  such  words  as  these : — 

"Oh,  where  shall  rest  be  found, 

Rest  for  the  weary  soul  ? 
T  were  vaiu  the  ocean-depths  to  sound, 
Or  pierce  to  either  pole. 

"  The  world  can  never  give 

The  bliss  for  which  we  sigh; 
'T  is  not  the  whole  of  life  to  live, 
Nor  all  of  death  to  die. 

"  Beyond  this  vale  of  tears 

There  is  a  life  above, 
Unmeasured  by  the  flight  of  years; 
And  all  that  life  is  love." 

Is  the  world  a  vile  world  ?  Is  the 
body  a  leprous  thing  to  which  man  is 
chained?  I  love  it,  especially  when  I 
have  mastered  it.  Is  life  a  long  night- 


188  In  Terms  of  Life. 

mare,  of  which  it  is  a  crime  to  rid  our- 
selves, and  a  blessing  to  be  rid  of?  I 
love  life.  There  is  so  much  more  sweet 
than  bitter  for  those  that  look  for  nectar. 
I  have  great  affection  for  my  body, 
troublesome  as  it  sometimes  is.  We 
have  gone  through  so  much  together, 
that  we  are  used  to  each  other,  and  I 
really  like  to  gratify  it  and  treat  it  fairly 
well.  And  the  world,  the  dear  old  world, 
has  so  many  more  angels  than  devils  in 
it,  and  grows  such  rare  flowers  of  prom- 
ise on  its  grave-mold,  that  I  would  not 
trade  places  with  the  greatest  archangel. 
Why,  then,  is  this  melancholy  wail  so 
prominent  in  religious  conversation  and 
literature  ?  Is  it  true  that  faith  and  hope 
do  not  abide,  while  pain  and  sorrow  do  ? 
The  answer  is  complex.  Men  love,  in  a 
a  certain  way,  gloom  and  melancholy. 
Weeds  of  mourning  give  a  peculiar  com- 
fort, and  the  hideous  side  of  life  appeals 
to  a  part  of  our  nature.  Men  love  mys- 
tery, and  cling  with  marvelous  conserv- 
atism to  superstitions  long  after  their 
intellectual  powers  have  outgrown  them. 
The  modern  quack  or  miracle-worker 


Rest.  189 

finds  followers  everywhere.  It  is  a  fact 
as  strange  as  it  is  paradoxical,  that  pro- 
gress toward  brighter  light  and  wider 
liberty  has  always  been  accomplished  in 
spite  of  the  inertia  and  opposition  of  the 
great  mass  of  people  who  have  stoned 
their  prophets  and  crucified  their  Mes- 
siahs chiefly  because  they  were  disturb- 
ers and  turned  the  world  upside  down. 

Men  love  ease  and  rest.  Their  busiest 
moments  are  when,  like  ants,  they  rush 
frantically  about  to  settle  their  disturbed 
nests.  Will  man  evolve  himself  ?  Was 
Godlikeness  wrapped  up  in  some  prime- 
val savage,  and  has  it  gradually  and 
easily  unrolled  itself  until  a  Godlike 
man  is  the  result?  No.  If  human  his- 
tory shows  progress,  it  is  not  to  man's 
credit.  Man  has  been  a  fighter  all  his 
life,  and  not  a  willing  one ;  he  has  fought 
for  peace  and  ease,  but  has  never  found 
them.  Instead,  power  has  come  to  him. 
Enlarged  borders  mean  heavier  respon- 
sibilities—  new  burdens  for  empty  shoul- 
ders. 

Left  alone,  man  would  never  progress. 
His  body  would  become  the  slave  of 


190  In  Terms  of  Life. 

habit,  his  mind  an  encyclopedia,  his  reli- 
gion a  dead  skeleton  of  theology,  wired 
by  some  creed  or  system  of  morality. 
The  world-movement  which  we  identify 
with  the  name  of  Christ  is  not  an  up- 
swelling  of  the  life  of  humanity.  The 
tides  are  caused  by  external  forces. 
"  Whatever  amount  of  power  an  organ- 
ism expends  is  the  correlate  and  equiva- 
lent of  a  power  that  is  taken  into  it  from 
without." 

The  leaven  of  Christ  is  working 
throughout  the  world;  it  has  become  a 
part  of  man's  environment,  and  there  is 
no  rest  for  man  until  he  has  conformed 
to  this  environment  and  measured  up  to 
the  standard  of  Christ.  It  is  evident, 
then,  that  the  rest  of  having  nothing  to 
do  will  never  come  in  this  life,  or  in  any 
other.  If  we  are  to  look  for  happiness, 
it  must  be  of  another  kind. 

In  contradiction  to  Montgomery's  hymn, 
"Oh,  where  shall  rest  be  found?"  I  af- 
firm that  rest, —  that  is,  absence  of  worry, 
and  wear,  and  weariness, —  recuperating, 
invigorating,  and  bringing  content, —  can 
be  found  here,  in  this  world,  in  this  body, 


Rest.  191 

and  during  this  life.  This  world  with- 
holds bliss  from  those  only  who  sigh.  It 
is  a  vale  of  tears  for  those  only  who  will 
not  look  for  the  rainbow  tints  reflected 
from  the  falling  drops. 

The  old  view  of  life  was  a  vicious  one. 
It  directed  man  away  from  the  only 
source  of  happiness  and  peace,  made  his 
standards  external,  forced  upon  him  com- 
mandments and  creeds,  made  his  religion 
a  life  of  hard  service  and  restriction, 
made  character  seem  like  a  library  or  a 
collection  of  curiosities  —  an  accumula- 
tion of  virtues.  It  withdrew  men  from 
the  only  field  where  character  could  be 
won.  It  destroyed  man's  faith  in  him- 
self. He  was  guided  by  authority  and 
ruled  by  precedent.  There  are  many  who 
want  conduct  decided  for  them,  who  want 
a  prop  to  lean  on;  to  them  such  a  reli- 
gion would  appeal,  and  for  them  such  a 
religion  means  moral  destruction.  This 
has  been  the  great  error  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church:  she  does  not  have 
faith  in  men. 

It  set  men  to  watching  their  own  con- 
duct and  stiidying  themselves,  enumerat- 


192  In  Terms  of  Life. 

ing  their  virtues,  and  selfishly  parading 
their  ills.  Spontaneity  was  destroyed  by 
it,  and  there  is  no  happiness  where  spon- 
taneity is  lacking.  It  made  happiness  an 
end,  and  caused  men  to  "take  thought" 
for  life. 

Happiness,  which  means  peace,  rest, 
contentment,  is  not  something  to  be 
worked  for;  it  comes  only  as  one  of  the 
results  of  living.  Make  it  the  goal  of 
your  life,  and  you  never  reach  it.  For- 
get it — live!  —  and  lo  !  happiness  is  by 
your  side,  your  most  efficient  helper. 
The  peace  of  God  is  the  peace  of  living 
and  growing. 

External]  sm  —  placing  all  our  depend- 
ence upon  rules,  precedent,  creeds,  and 
doctrines — this  brings  unrest  and  worry. 
We  fear  when  these  seem  to  fail.  The 
greatest  sin  is  not  ignorance,  but  lazi- 
ness; not  in  not  knowing  what  to  do,  but 
in  not  doing  what  we  know.  Happy  is 
that  man  who  has  within  himself  all  that 
is  necessary  for  life. 

These  words  of  Christ, — "The  king- 
dom of  God  is  within  you," — were  mo- 
mentous words.  He  did  not  say  the 


Rest.  1 93 

kingdom  of  God  is  to  be  found  in 
heaven  by  those  who  can  get  through 
this  vile  world.  It  is  not  to  be  found 
in  any  organization  whose  rigid  walls 
separate  sheep  and  goats,  nor  in  any 
system  of  rules  or  belief  by  which  a  fal- 
tering hand  can  steer  through  life  when 
judgment  wavers.  It  does  not  come  to 
us  through  any  possession;  the  rarest 
jewels  lose  their  charm  when  once  pos- 
sessed. Nor  is  it  to  be  found  in  pomp, 
or  power,  or  ambitions  realized — in  accu- 
mulations that  permit  gratification  and 
ease.  Care-worn  faces  and  aching  hearts 
are  linked  with  these.  Kingdoms  built 
on  these  have  crumbled,  and  no  human 
institution  has  yet  been  able  to  withstand 
the  mighty  power  of  those  seven  words. 

How  can  I  have  the  kingdom  within 
me '?  By  drawing  to  myself  the  choicest 
things  of  the  world  ?  Beholding  its 
beautiful  pictures,  reading  its  wisest 
books,  singing  its  glorious  songs  ?  By 
erecting  in  my  heart  a  shrine  to  each  of 
the  gods,  or  enthroning  there  Jehovah 
himself  ?  By  defining  right,  by  decrying 
wrong?  By  ruling  myself  with  a  rod  of 


194  In  Terms  of  Life. 

iron,  and  removing  myself  from  tempta- 
tion and  trial  in  a  life  of  asceticism  ?  No. 
My  little  life  is  soon  filled,  and  grows 
morbid  from  overcrowding  when  I  seek 
to  accumulate.  And  when  I  seek  to  build 
a  secret  altar  to  a  god  in  my  heart,  I  find 
it  some  caricature  of  self  I  have  seated 
there.  And  rules  for  living  are  tiresome 
things  that  keep  me  asking,  "What  lack 
I  yet  ?  "  The  kingdom  is  not  like  these. 

I  saw  one  day  a  mountain  spring  come 
bubbling  up  among  the  pebbles  and  sand. 
As  it  piled  up  the  water,  it  was  gurgling 
like  a  child,  and  sparkling.  Its  stream 
flowed  down  the  mountain-side,  bathing 
the  roots  of  ferns  and  trees.  The  birds 
drank,  and  thanked  God;  the  herds  and 
the  tired  laborers  satisfied  their  thirst. 
Away  on  the  mountain  the  spring  knew 
nothing  of  its  overflow.  It  took  what 
came,  and  eagerly  passed  it  on.  It  lived 
and  was  happy. 

"  Man  in  his  inmost  being  is  not  keyed 
to  the  temporal,  but  to  the  eternal."  Rest 
for  him  lies  in  the  realm  above  and  be- 
yond material  things.  If  he  would  lead 
an  unfettered  existence,  he  must  throw 


Rest.  195 

away  his  fetters.  We  can  live  with  our 
aches  and  pains,  but  why  should  the 
spirit  of  man  be  confined  with  diseased 
organs  and  aching  bones,  uttering  plain- 
tive ohs  and  ouches  all  day  long,  when  it 
can,  if  it  will,  be  free  and  roam  all  the 
world  for  sweets. 

The  desire  for  rest  planted  in  the  heart 
of  man  is  no  sensual  or  unworthy  one. 
It  is  an  evidence  of  our  likeness  to  God. 
It  is  a  proof  that  we  are  the  children  of 
God.  I  believe  that  it  is  proof  also 
that  a  rest  remaineth  for  the  children  of 
God.  But  it  can  and  does  come  to  us 
only  as  we  become  Godlike.  If  we  are 
made  in  God's  image,  we  must  share 
God's  condition, —  eternally  active,  yet 
eternally  at  rest. 

"If  it  be  said  that  man  can  never  attain 
this  repose  because  he  can  never  reach  the 
eternal  perfection  and  power,  it  may  be 
answered  that  it  does  not  depend  upon  the 
proportions  of  the  being,  but  upon  the  har- 
mony of  his  powers,  and  upon  his  adjust- 
ment to  his  external  condition."  If  we 
could  be  and  keep  in  perfect  harmony  with 
our  environment,  we  would  know  rest. 


196  In  Terms  of  Life. 

But  we  cannot  have  this  perfect  har- 
mony with  our  material  world.  Our 
bodies  are  full  of  animal  tendencies  and 
repeatedly  and  constantly  urge  us  to  do 
things  that  we  will  not  do.  We  are  at  war 
with  our  bodies  and  mean  to  hold  them 
with  firm  hands  and  keep  them  in  sub- 
jection so  long  as  we  have  them.  It  is 
good  for  us,  this  struggle.  It  brings 
pain  and  suffering  and  some  evil,  but  it 
is  divinely  appointed  and  has  much  of 
blessing  and  a  soul  of  goodness  in  it. 

But  we  are  more  than  our  bodies,  and 
if  we  cannot  be  at  peace  with  them  ex- 
cept as  we  hold  them  in  subjection,  let 
us  seek  it  elsewhere.  The  butterfly 
escaping  from  its  chrysalis  illustrates 
our  condition.  It  is  dying  to  its  old 
caterpillar  world, —  but,  oh,  how  happy 
it  must  be  rising  into  its  higher  life  ! 
So  it  finds  rest  in  becoming.  So  with 
you  and  me.  As  the  real  man  or  woman 
within,  whom  the  world  does  not  know, 
but  whom  we  know,  swells  until  it  fits  its 
environment  and  adjusts  itself  to  all  that 
draws  it  out,  then  we  shall  know  rest. 

"Weariness  does  not  come  from  action, 


Rest.  197 

but  from  restraint  put  upon  action."  Any- 
thing, then,  that  hinders  your  growth, 
prevents  your  realization  of  your  self, 
and  brings  weariness  and  toil.  Unham- 
pered growth  into  God's  image  is  the 
rest  that  remaineth  for  the  children  of 
God.  "  Man  is,  properly  speaking,  based 
on  hope ;  he  has  no  other  possession  but 
hope.  This  world  of  his  is  emphatically 
the  place  of  hope." 

"  Host  is  not  quitting 

The  busy  career. 
Rest  is  the  fitting 

Of  self  to  its  sphere. 

"  'Tis  the  brook's  motion, 

Clear  without  strife, 
Fleeing  to  ocean 
After  its    life. 

"'Tis  loving  and  serving 
The  highest  and  best. 
'Tis  onward  unswerving, — 
And  that  is  true  rest." 


IMMOETALITY. 

THEEE  is  perhaps  no  other  question  in 
which  the  world  is  so  deeply  interested 
as  in  this.  The  human  mind  has  always 
held  to  the  belief  in  immortality,  and 
yet  has  always  doubted  it.  But  the  truth 
of  it  is  not  discredited  by  this  fact. 

That  which  can  survive  so  much  doubt 
and  so  many  attacks  must  have  a  basis 
of  truth.  There  is  a  reason  for  this 
struggle,  and  a  reason  why  we  can  never 
be  intellectually  beyond  doubt  on  this 
question. 

Immortality  is  a  spiritual  fact,  asserted 
and  demanded  by  the  mind  and  moral 
nature  of  man.  Consciousness  knows  no 
sleeping  or  waking.  We  do  not  sleep. 
Our  bodies  cease  to  bring  us  reports 
from  the  outside  world,  and  yet  we  know 
that  the  real  /  goes  on  living  while  it 
waits  for  me  to  waken. 

You  cannot  think  of    yourself  as  not 

198 


Immortality.  199 

being;  you  try  to  identify  death  and 
annihilation,  and  you  are  standing  off  at 
one  side  contemplating  the  ruin  you  have 
wrought.  We  cannot  be  conscious  of  our 
minds  without  being  conscious  of  our  in- 
dependence of  time  and  death.  This  is 
one  side  of  the  question.  Our  bodies 
furnish  the  other.  They  are  constantly 
reminding  us  of  death  and  decay;  the 
sense  of  our  bodily  condition  is  always 
suggesting  the  impossibility  of  immor- 
tality. 

Belief  and  doubt  are  the  result  of  an 
unending  warfare  between  matter  and 
spirit.  The  strength  of  belief  or  doubt 
in  any  mind  depends  entirely  upon  that 
mind's  relation  to  the  two  domains  of 
matter  and  spirit.  If  matter  and  its  laws 
are  supreme  in  the  activity  of  a  man,  it 
will  be  difficult  for  him  to  see  any  reason 
for  a  belief  in  immortality.  If  he  lives 
in  the  world-life  and  knows  the  spiritual 
world,  then  you  cannot  convince  him  of 
mortality.  Immortality  is  a  fact  with  him 
that  needs  no  proof. 

We  know  that  the  mind  is  supreme 
over  matter,  yet  this  supremacy  is  limited 


200  In  Terms  of  Life. 

by  its  close  subjection  to  matter.  Under 
such  conditions  do  we  apprehend  all  high 
truths,  ethical,  mental,  and  spiritual.  No 
fact  is  actually  known  unless  it  is  stated 
in  mathematical  terms,  and  with  ques- 
tions such  as  this  no  demonstration  is 
possible.  It  can  never  become  directly 
a  scientific  question,  for  Science  deals 
with  matter;  so,  in  her  attitude  toward 
this  question,  she  is  agnostic.  Attempts 
to  demonstrate  this  truth  degrade  it. 
Before  you  can  prove  it,  you  must  first 
bring  it  down  out  of  the  region  where 
things  require  no  proof  to  the  level  of 
common  things  that  can  be  proved.  You 
may  know  a  stone,  or  a  bit  of  metal, — 
you  will  never  weigh  love. 

Immortality  is  not  proved  by  Nature. 
Nature  is  full  of  suggestions  and  analo- 
gies, but  analogies  prove  nothing.  Ho- 
mologies  prove.  If  we  can  trace  a 
homology  between  any  element  of  our 
character  and  the  great  nature-world,  if 
we  can  find  in  the  great  beneficent  heart 
of  God  a  homology  to  the  heart  of  man, 
we  have  commenced  to  build  the  demon- 
stration of  the  fact  of  immortality. 


Immortality.  '201 

This  I  wish  to  do;  but  first  let  me 
refer  to  some  errors  in  our  treatment  of 
the  question.  Belief  in  immortality  must 
not  be  merely  a  sentiment.  By  sentiment 
I  mean  thought  prompted  by  passion,  or 
desire,  or  feeling.  Primarily,  of  course, 
sentiment  refers  to  that  state  of  mind 
produced  by  the  co-operation  of  our 
rational  and  our  moral  natures.  I  refer 
here  to  the  common  indulgence  of  our 
emotions,  either  without  a  rational  basis, 
or  in  spite  of  contradictory  rational  lead- 
ings. When  reason  fails,  we  can  take 
refuge  in  a  feeling  purely  artificial  and 
imaginary.  We  can  produce  a  feeling  of 
health  by  the  use  of  stimulants,  but  it  is 
counterfeit  and  useless  for  action.  And 
an  artificial  feeling  of  immortality  can  be 
produced  by  the  use  of  stimulants,  such 
as  our  hymns  beginning  "There  is  a 
happy  laud,  far,  far  away,"  or  "Sweet 
fields  arrayed  in  living  green,"  or  by 
the  use  of  what  we  may  call  balloon 
philosophy,  which  locates  both  premises 
and  conclusions  at  such  altitudes  that  the 
dizzy  brain  mistakes  exaltation  for  con- 
viction. 


202  In  Terms  of  Life. 

In  religion  we  sometimes  indulge  our 
sensibilities  for  the  mere  excitement  of 
indulgence,  allow  our  imagination  to  rove 
for  the  pleasure  of  creating  scenes  of 
ideal  enjoyment  and  gazing  at  the  airy 
creation  we  have  made.  Here  religion 
has  been  prostituted,  and  heavens  of  sen- 
suality have  been  interposed  between 
man  and  the  realities  of  life. 

Poetry  transformed  into  a  narcotic  and 
emotion  produced  by  a  song  are  often 
mistaken  for  the  evidence  of  life.  I 
have  already  traced  the  disastrous  effects 
of  artificiality  of  any  kind.  I  think  you 
will  require  no  proof  when  I  say  that 
dreams  of  Heaven  held  before  a  toiling, 
suffering  fellow,  do  not  make  toil  lighter 
or  suffering  less.  Do  you  help  a  home- 
sick friend  by  talking  to  him  of  home,  or 
by  giving  him  something  else  to  think 
about  or  something  to  do  ? 

Another  mistake  is  to  treat  immortality 
as  an  abstraction, —  as  something  sepa- 
rated from  this  life,  unconnected  with 
it, —  something  to  be  assumed  when  we 
get  through  here.  This  view  of  the  sub- 
ject possesses  all  the  evils  of  sentimen- 


Immortality.  203 

tality  and  one  more.  It  divides  life, 
subtracts  from  the  energy  and  interest  we 
should  throw  into  everything  we  do.  It 
leads  us  to  temporize ;  it  detracts  from  the 
importance  of  every  act,  and  cultivates 
low  motives,  by  conditioning  our  con- 
dition hereafter  on  our  behavior  here. 
Immortal  life  must  be  very  closely 
identified  with  this  life ;  life  must  be 
immortal,  if  it  is  a  factor  in  human 
development. 

So,  if  I  appear  to  destroy  the  heaven 
of  your  dreams,  let  me  try  to  show  you 
that  in  its  place  may  be  put  a  heaven 
which  knows  no  present  or  future. 

If  man  is  ever  to  be  an  immortal  being, 
he  is  one  when  he  begins  to  live  his  divin- 
ity. If  you  have  risen  to  that  height  where 
you  feel  sure  that  you  know  God  in  this 
world,  and  in  your  life,  and  in  the  lives 
of  your  fellows,  be  very  sure  that  you 
know  your  own  immortality.  For  it  is 
life  eternal  to  know  God,  and  his  incar- 
nations in  Christ  and  in  your  brethren. 
And  if  you  know  God  now,  you  know 
your  immortality  now.  You  know  that 
you  are  something  that  cannot  die.  How 


204  In  Terms  of  Life. 

did  Christ  view  this  question  ?  He  offers 
no  proof  of  immortality,  but  simply 
assumes  it.  He  talks  much  about  love, 
faith,  obedience,  prayer.  He  might  have 
shown  that  each  presupposes  immortality, 
but  he  did  not.  Life  was  so  real  to  him, 
that  the  thought  of  its  ending  never  seems 
to  have  occurred  to  him.  He  was  alive, 
and  that  meant  alive  forever.  Death  was 
only  an  incident  connected  with  man's 
body,  and  to  Christ  man  was  not  a  body, 
but  a  soul, —  using  matter  for  a  while, 
but  not  identified  with  it.  If  his  life 
had  been  to  any  extent  identified  with 
matter,  we  might  have  expected  him  to 
fear  death;  for  we  know  perfectly  that 
death  will  separate  us  from  material 
things.  But  he  loved  things  in  men  that 
death  could  not  touch;  he  lived  and 
worked  with  characters,  not  bodies.  So 
death  to  him  was  simply  a  change  of 
clothes;  the  life  went  on.  So  he  wasted 
no  time  in  reasoning  about  things  that 
are  not  to  be  settled  by  reason.  He 
assumed  God,  and  God  is.  To  demon- 
strate immortality  would  have  been  to 
him  irrelevant.  He  was  alive,  forever, 


Immortality.  205 

self-evident.     He  assumed  it,  and  built 
his  whole  teaching  on  that  assumption. 

Do  you  say  that  assumption  is  110 
proof?  It  is  a  statement  of  conviction. 
The  biologist  is  convinced  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  life ;  he  assumes  it, 
and  works  upon  that  assumption.  The 
chemist  is  convinced  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  an  atom;  he  assumes  it,  and 
works  upon  that  assumption.  So  Christ 
assumes  that  man  is  MW-mortal.  He  does 
not  speak  of  life  hereafter;  life  is  now— 
now  and  forever.  Life  and  eternal  life 
are  the  same. 

This  was  the  reason  he  talked  so  much 
about  it.  The  important  thing  with  him 
was  not  that  man  might  through  much 
suffering  and  trial  weather  the  storms 
of  life,  and  then  have  an  easy  course 
through  all  eternity.  The  vital  point 
with  him  was,  that  man  should  not  post- 
pone his  good  time  until  after  his  own 
funeral,  but  should  begin  his  eternity 
now. 

So  he  sought  to  give  meaning  to  life. 
Not  knowledge,  or  power,  or  riches,  or 
position,  but  character,  is  what  counts. 


206  In  Terms  of  Life. 

And  when  life  begins  to  be  true,  it 
announces  itself  as  eternal  to  the  mind. 
"As  a  caged  bird,  when  let  loose  into  the 
sky,  might  say:  'Now  I  know  that  my 
wings  are  made  to  beat  the  air  in  flight ; ' 
and  no  logic  could  ever  persuade  the 
bird  that  it  was  not  designed  to  fly ;  but 
when  caged,  it  might  have  doubted,  at 
times,  as  it  beat  the  bars  of  its  prison 
with  unavailing  stroke,  if  its  wings  were 
made  for  flight."  So  when  a  man  begins 
to  live — Jove,  deny  himself,  serve  —  he 
understands  what  life  is,  and  knows  that 
death  cannot  touch  it.  But  all  of  these 
activities  are  what  may  be  called  spiri- 
tual activities.  When  the  spiritual  nature 
is  brought  into  exercise,  it  generates  not 
only  faith  in  eternal  life,  but  reasons 
for  it. 

In  proportion  as  man's  life  is  identified 
with  things  that  change  and  decay  is  his 
faith  weakened.  But  if  one's  ideals  are 
in  the  realm  of  character,  death  is  not 
one  of  their  attributes.  Faith  has  a 
wonderful  assimilating  power;  we  are 
like  what  we  believe.  Faith  may  be 
called  the  workman,  our  object  in  life 


Immortality.  207 

the  pattern,  and  we  are  the  clay.  There 
is  no  need  that  men  should  be  labeled ; 
they  confess  their  faith  in  feature.  By 
this  principle,  Christ  unites  himself  to 
men.  Fellowship  brings  likeness,  and 
likeness  means  that  we  take  ourselves 
his  attitude  toward  life.  What  was  his 
attitude  ?  Love.  To  the  lawyer  who 
tempted  him,  Christ  answered,  "Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all 
thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind ;  and 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  This  do,  and 
thou  shalt  live."  This  is  another  way  of 
saying  life  is  love,  and  love  is  life  eternal. 
Only  he  who  loves  lives.  Wisdom  is  vain 
unless  our  knowledge  is  turned  into  love. 
Love  for  men  —  and  this  soon  passes 
into  love  for  God  —  lifts  man  above  the 
physical  where  death  is,  into  the  spiritual 
life  everlasting. 


KELIGION  AS  A  SOCIAL  FACTOR 

THE  object  of  this  lecture  is  to  indi- 
cate as  briefly  as  the  scope  of  the  subject 
will  permit,  the  part  religion  may  play 
in  the  evolution  of  society.  The  complex 
nature  of  the  discussion  requires  that  we 
should  quite  clearly  understand  at  the 
outset  the  meaning  of  the  terms  religion 
and  society,  and  something  also  of  the 
laws  that  govern  the  growth  of  each. 
Both  have  suffered  because  of  confusion 
with  other  terms,  some  of  which  at  least 
have  no  relation  whatever  with  these 
whose  place  they  usurp.  Many  in  denn- 
ing religion  will  give  a  definition  of  ethics 
or  of  theology ;  and  the  socialist,  the  com- 
munist, and  the  anarchist  each  insists  on 
a  different  definition  of  society.  Let  us, 
then,  as  carefully  as  is  possible  in  this 
limited  time,  submit  each  term  with  its 
perversions  to  an  analysis  that  will  show 
us  what  we  mean,  and  what  we  do  not 

208 


Religion  as  a  Social  Factor.    209 

mean,  by  the  words  religion  and  society. 
Preliminary  to  this  discussion,  however, 
it  is  important  to  note  that  both  religion 
and  society  have  all  the  characters  of  liv- 
ing things.  And  one  peculiarity  of  living 
things  is  that  no  concise  and  inclusive  and 
limiting  definition  of  them  can  be  writ- 
ten. Allowance  must  be  made  for  growth 
and  change. 

If  there  is  ever  any  place  for  dogmatiz- 
ing, for  insisting  on  final  definitions,  it  is 
certainly  never  found  here.  And  here, 
more  than  in  any  other  field  of  knowl- 
edge, is  one  made  conscious  of  mystery. 
There  is  so  little,  comparatively  speaking, 
that  is  founded  on  fact  and  experience,  that 
the  temptation  to  forsake  the  little  that 
is  known  for  the  much  that  may  be  con- 
jectured is  very  strong.  Now  the  ten- 
dency to  dogmatize  increases  as  the 
subject  discussed  is  lifted  out  of  the 
field  of  experience  into  that  of  specula- 
tion. Where  nothing  can  be  proved,  it 
is  also  true  that  nothing  can  be  dis- 
proved. Consequently  it  is  true  of  reli- 
gion in  particular  that  it  carries  a  great 
weight  of  ghosts  and  goblins  who  do 


210  In  Terms  of  Life. 

much  to  hide  its  real  foundation  on  fact 
and  experience.  It  is  still  regarded  by 
many  as  man's  relation  to  the  supernat- 
ural. 

Every  one  of  the  natural  sciences  to-day 
has  earned  the  right  to  be  called  natural 
by  long  warfare  with  uncanny  dogmas 
that  usurped  the  place  of  law  and  linked 
superstition  and  religion  in  a  most  unholy 
struggle  to  limit  the  dominion  of  the 
mind.  We  have  lived  to  see  the  angels 
chased  from  astronomy,  the  devils  from 
geology,  and  the  ghosts  from  chemistry. 
Judging  from  the  advertising  columns  of 
our  papers,  physics  still  has  some  work 
to  do  with  magnetic  and  electric  imps. 
But  we  see  mysterious  life  itself  arran- 
ging its  facts  under  the  domain  of  law. 

In  religion  alone  do  angels  and  ghosts 
and  devils  yet  hold  their  supernatural 
sway.  But  it  is  only  because  in  religion 
man  thinks  less  than  in  any  other  field 
of  his  activity.  Men  of  apparently  strong 
common  sense  will  become  very  freaks  in 
the  name  of  religion,  and  act  in  the  house 
of  worship  with  a  thoughtlessness  that 
would  seem  insane  in  the  house  of  busi- 


Religion  as  a  Social  Factor.    211 

ness.  Not  because  they  are  either  freaks 
or  fools;  they  simply  prefer  not  to 
think, —  not  to  use  the  same  common 
sense  to  regulate  their  relations  to  their 
fellow-men  and  their  God  that  they  are 
quick  to  use  in  their  business  and  polit- 
ical relations.  From  their  standpoint, 
religion  is  a  separate  and  distinct  field 
of  activity.  To  enter  it  means  that  they 
have  by  so  much  widened  their  responsi- 
bility and  multiplied  their  burdens.  They 
prefer  to  escape  both  by  relegating  the 
whole  question  to  the  realm  of  the  super- 
natural. This  shifts  responsibility.  For 
common  sense  knows  perfectly  that  it  has 
no  control  over  the  supernatural,  and  so 
it  gives  place  to  what  I  would  call  —  if 
I  will  not  be  wrongly  interpreted  —  non- 
sense. Yet  religion,  too,  will  be  brought 
out  of  the  region  of  the  supernatural. 
No  authority  on  earth  can,  and  no  power 
in  Heaven  will,  withstand  man's  effort  to 
be  a  rational  being.  The  more  rationally 
man  lives,  the  more  distasteful  and  use- 
less will  the  realm  of  speculation  become, 
and,  I  hasten  to  add,  the  more  divine  will 
be  the  natural. 


212  In  Terms  of  Life. 

And  Religion  will  lose  nothing  by  the 
process.  She  will  gain  immensely.  Just 
as  we  can  extend  the  laws  of  life  into  the 
sphere  of  religion,  just  so  far  will  its 
utility  be  recognized  as  a  factor  in  social 
development.  As  much  as  modern  chem- 
istry is  superior  to  the  useless  vagaries 
of  alchemy,  will  the  new  religion,  now 
broadening  in  the  world,  be  superior  to 
the  mysticism,  the  vague  emotionalism, 
the  self-deception  and  spiritual  laziness 
which  has  too  often  borne  her  name. 

In  prophesying  that  the  future  will 
recognize  no  other  difference  between 
natural  and  supernatural  than  between 
known  and  unknown,  I  do  not  mean  that 
all  mystery  will  vanish.  Mystery  will 
never  vanish.  As  the  circle  of  our 
knowledge  widens,  the  horizon  of  our 
world  of  mystery  will  widen  also.  But 
I  do  mean  that  we  will  cease  trying  to 
think  of  the  unknown  world  except  in 
terms  of  this  world.  All  that  we  know 
of  Heaven  is  here  on  earth.  All  that  we 
know  of  God  is  in  the  world  of  sense 
and  experience.  Indeed,  wre  might  write 
a  definition  of  God  and  say  that  he  is  our 


Religion  as  a  Social  Factor.     213 

ideal  of  goodness  and  truth  and  power 
projected  into  infinity.  When  we  call 
him  Father,  we  mean  that  he  is  as  a  per- 
fect father  would  be ;  and  so  with  all  the 
attributes  we  ascribe  to  him.  To  be 
sure,  we  can  and  do  define  him  in  meta- 
physical terms,  and  by  so  doing  make 
him  a  metaphysical  nonentity,  useless  in 
the  affairs  of  men,  and  affecting  them 
only  as  a  dead  weight.  If  we  define  our 
religion  as  a  real  social  factor,  it  must 
be  in  terms  of  social  life,  and  God  must 
be  recognized  as  dwelling  in  men,  and 
not  bowed  out  of  his  universe  before  he 
is  made  an  object  of  worship. 

How  pathetic  was  Christ's  attempt  to 
teach  his  disciples  this  great  truth ! 
Philip,  speaking  for  the  twelve,  begged 
him  to  rend  .apart  the  ciirtains  of  Heaven 
and  show  them  the  Father;  and  Jesus 
says,  "Have  /  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me, 
Philip  ?  " 

The  only  God  with  whom  men  can 
enter  into  personal  relations,  then,  is  to 
be  looked  for  among  men.  If  he  is 
revealed  to  men  at  all,  it  is  in  human 


214  In  Terms  of  Life. 

terms.  And  the  religion  which  is  to  be 
a  prominent  factor  in  the  regeneration  of 
society  must  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
the  affairs  of  this  world,  and  compara- 
tively little  to  do  with  the  affairs  of 
another  world. 

It  requires  but  a  superficial  study  of 
the  history  of  religion  to  see  that  one  or 
the  other  of  the  two  tendencies  referred 
to  —  the  tendency  toward  metaphysics  and 
the  tendency  toward  submission  to  au- 
thority— has  always  threatened  the  use- 
fulness of  religion.  There  are  many 
so-called  churches  to-day  that  are  little 
more  than  philosophical  debating  socie- 
ties or  ethical  clubs.  The  same  set  of 
people,  more  or  less  select,  will  meet 
occasionally  to  consider  the  affairs  of  this 
world  and  the  next,  both  at  long  range, 
and  narcotize  themselves  by  pleasant  in- 
tellectual stimulants.  They  are  as  prom- 
inent as  social  factors  as  would  be 
articulated  skeletons.  And  again,  there 
are  churches  so  dominated  by  authority 
and  by  dogma  that  thought  is  stifled  and 
society  is  made  like  a  drove  of  sheep. 
"Whenever  metaphysics  usurps  the  place 


Religion  as  a  Social  Factor.    215 

of  religion,  the  result  is  spiritual  steril- 
ity. When  authority  takes  the  place  of 
reason,  the  result  is  intellectual  barren- 
ness." Much  that  passes  for  religion 
to-day  is  cursed  by  the  metaphysical 
formulas  of  the  ancient  Greek  Church 
without  the  philosophy  which  gave  them 
meaning,  and  by  the  Latin  distrust  of 
reason  without  the  authority  which,  while 
it  enslaved  the  individual,  yet  made 
dogmatism  effective.  Any  definition  of 
religion  then  must  oppose  these  two 
tendencies. 

Now,  the  only  remedy  for  metaphysical 
sterility  is  life.  And  the  only  cure  for  an 
intellectually  barren  slavery  to  authority 
is  reason. 

Religion  then  must  be  defined  as  both 
vital  and  rational.  Its  vitality  will  be 
shown  by  what  it  does;  its  rationality 
by  its  methods  and  its  belief.  Its  theol- 
ogy must  be  tempered  by  the  elasticity 
of  life.  Theology  it  must  have,  as  the 
body  must  have  a  skeleton.  And  vitality 
it  must  have,  if  it  is  to  touch  the  affairs 
of  men. 

The  union  of  these  two  elements,  vital- 


216  In  Terms  of  Life. 

ity  and  rationality,  is  possible  only  when 
founded  on  life  and  experience.  Remove 
religion  to  a  sphere  of  its  own,  make  it 
necessary  for  man  to  stop  doing  some- 
thing else  in  order  to  be  religious,  make 
it  a  part  of  his  life,  and  not  all  of  it,  and 
you  devitalize  it.  It  begins  to  die  of  heart 
failure.  Lift  it  above  the  plane  of  fact, 
make  faith  mean  something  not  in  touch 
with  experience,  dogmatize  when  reason 
fails,  and  irrational  excrescences  digni- 
fied by  metaphysical  terms  burden  the 
enslaved  mind  of  the  superstitious  de- 
votee. 

We  can  reason  only  from  the  facts  and 
experiences  of  life  —  from  things  which 
we  touch  and  handle  and  feel  and  know. 
Any  system  of  speculation  that  starts  in 
the  clouds,  be  it  ever  so  grand,  will 
remain  in  the  clouds  and  not  touch  men. 
And  any  system  of  theology  to  be  work- 
able, or  any  definition  of  religion  that 
can  be  lived,  must  be  founded  on  the 
experiences  of  this  life,  not  upon  a  sup- 
posititious life  in  another  realm  or  here- 
after. If  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  ever 
to  be  realized,  it  will  be  as  a  kingdom  on 


Religion  as  a  Social  Factor.    217 

earth ;  not  yonder  among  the  angels  and 
archangels,  but  here  on  earth  among  men 
and  women  who,  made  in  God's  image, 
are  trying  to  live  like  gods. 

But  let  us  press  closer  to  our  final 
definition  of  religion.  Religion  in  the 
past  has  been  pre-eminently  theological. 
The  religion  of  the  present  is  rapidly 
becoming  a  social  movement.  A  defini- 
tion of  religion  from  the  theological  side 
would  be  "The  doing  of  something  by 
which  God,  or  the  superior  power,  is 
affected  in  feeling  towards  us."  God  is 
angry,  and  must  be  appeased ;  we  pur- 
chase forgiveness  by  service  or  sacrifice. 
Or  we  need  superhuman  help ;  we  secure 
it  by  certain  services  which  are  supposed 
to  be  pleasing  to  Deity. 

Now,  I  am  going  to  deny  the  adequacy 
of  this  definition ;  but  in  doing  so  I  must 
not  overlook  its  element  of  truth.  Sin 
is  a  fact  of  human  experience.  But  all 
that  part  of  religion  which  belongs  to 
sacrifice,  or  the  propitiation  of  the  auger 
of  God,  belongs  to  the  imagination.  It 
may  have  been  reasoned  into  a  system  as 
elaborate  as  Calvinism,  but  it  is  founded 


218  In  Terms  of  Life. 

on  an  imaginary  hypothesis.  The  sacri- 
fice of  a  beast  upon  an  altar,  or  of  a  Son 
of  God  upon  a  cross,  for  the  purpose  of 
averting  just  retribution  from  any  one, 
rests  upon  an  imaginary  basis  which  we 
know  is  opposed  to  nature. 

Do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  believe 
in  the  atonement.  But  my  conception  is 
far  grander  than  this.  Better  lift  the  race 
above  the  possibility  of  sinning  than 
allow  it  to  sin  and  then  lift  it  above  the 
consequences.  Society  built  upon  this 
hypothesis  has  always  been  a  society 
content  with  its  sins.  The  imagination  — 
even  a  cultivated  one  —  offers  no  abiding 
healthful  foundation  for  practical  life ; 
it  is  an  aid  to  reason,  never  a  safe  sub- 
stitute. 

A  definition  of  religion  from  the 
standpoint  of  society  would  be  "Turning 
from  that  which  is  evil  to  that  which  is 
good."  It  is  not  a  matter  of  the  imagina- 
tion, but  of  the  heart;  not  theological  or 
Godward,  but  sociological  or  manward. 
God  needs  no  change  —  man  must  change. 
"Pure  religion  and  undefiled  before  our 
God  and  Father  is  this,  to  visit  the  father- 


Religion  as  a  Social  Factor.    219 

less  and  widows  in  their  affliction,  and  to 
keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world." 
Religion  impractical  love,  personal  purity. 
As  a  man  doeth  these  things  he  is  reli- 
gious. This  is  rational  and  scientific, 
practical  and  vital,  and  capable  of  un- 
limited expansion.  .  .  . 


III.— APPENDIX 


IN   MEMORIAM. 

[Professor  Murray,  in  the  Stanford  Sequoia,  January  20, 
1899.] 

DURING  this  last  holiday  season  the  hand  of 
death  has  been  laid  upon  the  sweetest  spirit 
in  our  midst,  and  W.  W.  Thoburn  has  been 
taken  from  us.  He  died  at  his  home  in 
Palo  Alto  shortly  after  eleven  o'clock  on 
Friday  night,  January  6th. 

Mr.  Thoburn  was  born  June  10,  1859,  in 
Belmont  County,  Ohio.  In  18G9  he  went  to 
Cincinnati  to  live,  and  in  1871  to  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.  He  entered  the  preparatory 
department  of  Columbian  University  in  1874, 
and  Allegheny  College  in  187G.  In  1881 
he  graduated  with  the  degree  of  A.  B.,  and 
during  the  succeeding  three  years  held  the 
position  of  teacher  of  Natural  Science  in 
the  Pennsylvania  State  Normal  School.  In 
1884  he  was  elected  to  the  chair  of  Geology 
and  Botany  in  Illinois  Wesleyau  University. 
He  pursued  a  post  graduate  course  of  study 
in  biology  at  Allegheny  College,  receiving 
the  degrees  of  A.  M.  and  Ph.  D.  in  1888. 


224  In  Memoriam. 

In  the  same  year  he  was  elected  to  the  chair 
of  Geology  and  Biology  in  the  University 
of  the  Pacific,  at  College  Park,  Cal.,  which 
position  he  held  till  the  autumn  of  1891. 
He  had  been  received  into  the  California 
Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church  in  1888,  was  ordained  deacon  in 
1890,  and  elder  in  1892.  After  severing  his 
connection  with  the  University  of  the  Pa- 
cific in  1891,  he  was  appointed  to  the  pastor- 
ate of  the  Methodist  Church  in  Mayfield. 

It  was  while  holding  this  position  that  he 
first  came  into  contact  with  Stanford  Uni- 
versity, where  he  pursued  courses  of  study, 
even  while  occupied  with  the  duties  of  his 
pastorate.  None  could  have  foretold  then 
the  place  he  was  to  assume  among  us,  but 
two  years  later  he  resigned  his  charge  to 
accept  the  position  of  instructor  in  zoology 
and  curator  of  the  museum,  and  definitely 
took  up  his  work  in  our  University  commu- 
nity. From  this  modest  beginning  he  was 
advanced  until  the  new  department  of  Bio- 
nomics was  created  and  put  under  his  charge. 
This  professorship  he  held  at  the  time  of 
his  death. 

He  was  not  yet  forty,  and  he  had  for  years 
been  far  from  strong;  yet  it  was  permitted 
him  to  accomplish  much, —  to  make  himself 


In  Memoriam.  225 

a  power.  He  made  those  who  knew  him 
love  him  and  love  the  things  he  stood  for  — 
earnestness,  simplicity,  sincerity,  and  truth; 
and  those  who  knew  him  best  loved  him 
best.  In  many  ways,  unique  as  was  his 
position,  he  was  representative  of  the  spirit 
that  obtains  among  us,  and  which  he  loved 
to  call  the  Stanford  spirit :  a  spirit  of  ear- 
nestness and  of  tolerance;  a  spirit  that, 
passing  over  forms,  seeks  to  emphasize  the 
underlying  truth;  a  spirit  that  knits  to- 
gether in  close  union  all  the  various  ele- 
ments of  our  community.  And  who  shall 
say  how  much  of  this  is  due  to  him? 

There  were  few  whom  he  did  not  touch, 
be  it  as  teacher,  as  friend,  or  as  spiritual 
helper.  And  yet  it  would  have  been  a  grief 
to  him  to  have  any  one  say  he  was  the  best- 
beloved  among  us,  the  one  whose  influence 
was  most  uplifting.  We  may  say  —  and  to 
know  that  this  was  our  feeling  was  a  joy  to 
him  —  that  he  was  one  who,  in  personal 
intercourse,  in  the  classroom,  and  in  the 
pulpit,  made  his  wide  influence  tell,  not  for 
scholarship,  not  for  righteousness  only",  but 
for  godliness.  To  measure  his  work  and 
his  influence  is  impossible;  to  number  those 
in  whom  he  first  awakened  the  desire  for 
better  things;  whose  eyes  he  opened  to  the 
o 


226  In  Memoriam. 

noble  seriousness  of  life;  those  with  trou- 
bled hearts  to  whom  his  own  serene  and 
confident  faith  brought  comfort.  For  the 
burden  of  the  mystery  seemed  never  to 
weigh  upon  his  spirit;  he  was  always  bright, 
always  cheery,  always  helpful. 

We  all  looked  to  him  as  the  one  about 
whom  the  spiritual  life  of  our  community 
centered.  It  was  easy  to  talk  with  him  of 
what  lay  nearest  the  heart,  or  of  what 
weighed  heaviest  on  the  heart;  it  was  easy 
to  cherish  high  ideals,  to  put  away  the  mean 
and  the  low;  easy  to  cling  with  a  vital  faith 
to  the  divine  love  whereof  he  spoke.  For 
some  reflection  of  that  love  shone  in  his 
own  face. 

Grieve  for  his  loss  we  must;  but  as  to  have 
known  him  and  loved  him  has  been  our 
privilege,  so  to  carry  on  his  work  in  meas- 
ure, by  consecrating  our  own  lives  to  high 
ends  is  now  our  duty.  It  is  thus  that  he 
would  have  us  show  our  love  for  him  and 
honor  his  memory. 


In  Memoriam.  227 


[President  Jordan,  at  the  Memorial  Service  in  the 
University  Chapel.  January  29,  1899.] 

ONCE  when  a  wise  and  good  man  died, 
these  words  were  said  of  him:  "  In  whatever 
part  of  God's  kingdom  he  may  find  himself, 
he  will  be  a  hopeful  man,  looking  upward 
and  not  downward,  looking  forward  and  not 
backward,  ever  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand, 
and  not  afraid  to  die."  In  words  like  these 
we  may  express  the  moving  spirit  of  Tho- 
burn's  life.  The  problems  of  existence  he 
met  simply  and  seriously,  trusting  that  all 
truth  is  God's  truth,  and  all  living  beings  are 
God's  creatures,  to  be  studied  and  helped, 
—  to  be  studied  in  order  that  they  may  be 
wisely  helped.  To  study  is  the  function  of 
science;  to  help  is  the  mission  of  religion; 
and  in  wisdom  and  helpfulness  lies  their  true 
reconciliation. 

Thoburn's  great  intellectual  virtue  was 
his  open-mindedness.  He  feared  nothing 
which  was  true.  He  cherished  nothing  which 
was  false.  He  had  learned  the  difficult  les- 
son that  while  truth  is  as  broad  as  the  uni- 
verse, which  no  mind  can  span,  the  line  of 
righteous  conduct  is  as  narrow  as  a  footpath 
compassed  by  the  stride  of  the  child. 


228  In  Memoriam. 

In  these  days  knowledge  accumulates  as 
never  before  in  all  the  ages,  because  men 
have  learned  to  work  together  in  their  search 
for  wisdom.  Much  that  was  once  wisdom 
is  now  superstition.  Much  that  our  fathers 
cherished  we  cast  on  the  rubbish-heap.  Much 
of  the  lore  of  the  ancients  is  but  old  wives' 
tales.  The  narrow  creeds  which  once  held 
religion  are  too  cramped  for  the  new  wine 
of  to-day.  The  life  has  gone  out  of  the  old 
ceremonies.  The  old  rewards  cease  to  in- 
cite to  goodness;  the  old  punishments  no 
longer  deter  from  sin.  We  climb  higher 
each  day  on  the  mountain  of  knowledge, 
and  we  look  on  life  in  broader  and  broader 
perspective.  The  problem  of  living  truth 
seems  to  grow  difficult.  So  many  new  paths 
open  before  us,  we  know  not  which  it  is 
right  to  choose,  and  many  have  come  to 
doubt  whether  there  be  any  right  path  of 
action. 

With  all  this  breadth  of  knowledge  there 
is  no  change  in  man's  duty.  To  do  the  best 
he  can,  moment  by  moment,  day  by  day,  is 
just  as  insistent  as  it  ever  was.  Righteous- 
ness is  not  out  of  date,  nor  is  piety  obsolete. 
The  moral  law  is  just  as  strenuous  to-day  as 
when  the  stern  Hebrew  prophets  knew  of 
nothing  else  in  the  universe.  Though  creeds 


In  Memoriam.  229 

lose  their  validity,  and  ceremonies  fade  away, 
the  essence  of  religion  cannot  change. 

"Still  stands  thine  ancient  sacrifice, 
A  humble  and  a  contrite  heart." 

The  art  of  receiving  new  truth  with  the 
same  simple  reverent  thankfulness  with  which 
he  held  the  oldest  truth  was  one  of  which 
Dr.  Thoburn  was  master.  He  was  broad- 
minded  without  laxity,  tolerant  without 
indifference,  free  without  irreverence.  He 
rejoiced  in  the  winds  of  freedom,  but  no 
part  of  his  religion  was  blown  away  by 
freedom's  wayward  breezes. 

Greater  than  his  intellectual  work,  greater 
than  his  influence  as  a  teacher  was  the 
inspiration  of  his  personal  life.  His  own 
sermons  he  lived,  and  this  in  simple  uncon- 
sciousness, "as  the  sun  gives  light,  or  the 
flower  fragrance."  "As  the  flowers  of 
to-day  are  the  embodiment  of  past  sun- 
shine," •  —  this  was  one  of  his  sayings, —  "  so 
is  the  virtue  and  the  happiness  of  to-day 
the  fruit  of  the  love  and  altruism  of  the 
past."  To  live  again  in  the  virtue  and 
happiness  of  his  students  was  his  greatest 
ambition  as  a  teacher.  And  the  students 
knew  that  they  had  no  wiser  adviser,  no 
better  friend. 

From  a  letter  just  received   from  one  of 


230  In  Memoriam. 

them,  I  take  these  words :  "  Dr.  Thoburn 
was  the  religious  force  of  our  University. 
The  greatest  of  all  truths  was  his  to  show  — 
man's  strength  in  God.  Though  frail  of 
body,  he  used  faithfully  the  strength  he 
had,  and  the  little  became  mighty  to  serve 
men.  His  education  was  scientific;  his  ex- 
perience was  deeply  human.  Because  he 
knew  both  science  and  man  he  could  work 
effectively  in  an  atmosphere  of  science  to 
reach  the  heart  of  men.  In  our  Stanford 
nook  he  was  our  builder,  helping  us  under 
God's  laws  to  frame  solidly  housing  for  our- 
selves. Science  cuts  life  into  facts,  and  it 
is  our  need  at  Stanford  that  we  should  put 
these  together,  lest  all  we  take  away  with 
us  be  but  a  bundle  of  facts. 

"There  is  danger  that  Science  shall  sit 
in  her  chair  with  her  cold  comment:  'Such 
is  the  necessary  process  of  things;  let  all 
things  take  their  course.'  Love  flies  to  the 
rescue  and  stops  the  bleeding  wounds  of 
humanity,  by  methods  Science  has  revealed. 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  drive  knowledge  into 
action.  To  make  science  a  living  force  for 
good  was  Dr.  Thoburn's  mission.  Under 
such  influences  Stanford  will  send  out 
reformers,  priests,  and  poets:  zealous  men, 
with  warm  hearts  and  trained  minds,  to  save 


In  Memoriam.  231 

their  kind  from  repeating  the  sins  of  yes- 
terday. Souls  starving  on  the  dry  husks 
of  theology  need  to  be  fed  with  truth  fresh 
seen  in  the  light  of  this  age  of  science,  fresh 
born  from  the  experience  of  to-day." 

It  was  Dr.  Thoburn's  lesson  that  men 
should  not  believe  less,  but  more.  Fewer 
formulated  statements,  fewer  dogmas,  it  may 
be,  but  more  deeply,  more  intensely,  more 
broadly  to  believe,  and  to  carry  all  belief 
over  into  action. 

The  place  which  Dr.  Thoburn  held  in  the 
University  was  one  which  made  itself.  He 
did  not  ask  to  be  called  as  professor  of 
human  life,  nor  did  the  authorities  go  out 
to  seek  him  as  such. 

He  entered  the  University  in  1891  as  a 
graduate  student  with  the  rest  of  the  pio- 
neers. When  we  knew  his  scholarship  we 
made  him  assistant  in  zoology,  and  from  this 
minor  work  his  own  character  called  him 
onward.  His  thoughts  and  influence  were 
bounded  by  no  chair,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  his  studies  broadened  to  the  compass 
of  human  life.  In  a  playful  way,  his  col- 
leagues spoke  of  him  as  their  "  spiritual 
adviser,"  but  behind  this  jest  was  perfect 
seriousness. 

He    was    our   spiritual    guide,    the    most 


232  In  Memoriam. 

esteemed  adviser,  the  best  beloved  friend, 
the  one  whose  loyalty  to  friendship,  whose 
loyalty  to  the  University,  whose  loyalty  to 
Christianity,  to  righteousness  and  truth, 
was  never  questioned.  In  adding  my  word 
to-day,  I  have  not  wished  to  speak  of  myself, 
but  I  cannot  refrain  from  one  expression: 
There  is  no  one  who  owes  Dr.  Thoburn  a 
greater  debt  than  I,  though  I  was  not  the  first 
to  realize  it  or  to  acknowledge  it.  In  the 
old  garden  of  the  Franciscans,  in  a  far-away 
city,  I  received  the  sad  and  tender  message 
from  Dr.  Gilbert:  "  Our  dear  friend  Tho- 
burn is  dead."  I  was  overwhelmed  with 
inexpressible  sadness  and  a  feeling  almost  of 
discouragement.  He  was  one  the  University 
could  not  spare.  All  at  once  the  warmth 
went  out  from  the  tropical  sunshine.  The 
shadows  fell  on  the  white  mountain  -  tops. 
The  delightful  tour  in  the  quaint  cities  around 
the  tall  volcanoes,  which  Dr.  Thoburn  him- 
self, who  knew  and  loved  Mexico,  had 
helped  us  to  plan,  seemed  to  lose  its  charm. 
Each  of  us  had  lost  —  from  the  light  of  this 
world  —  a  dear  friend.  But  we  all  felt  more 
than  this.  Our  beloved  University  had  lost 
its  strongest,  its  most  vital  influence  for  good. 

"The  gap  in  our  picked  and  chosen, 
The  long  years  may  not  fill." 


In  Memoriam.  233 

The  place  he  made  is  one  that  must  be 
forever  vacant.  Other  wise  and  good  and 
Christian  men  will  come  and  go.  Other 
men  will  lecture  on  the  unity  of  life  and  the 
soundness  of  God's  universe;  but  there  can 
be  but  one  Thoburn,  and  his  place  in  the 
University  must  be  his  alone. 

And  now  we  may  say  again,  "In  whatever 
part  of  God's  kingdom  he  may  find  himself 
he  will  be  a  hopeful  man,  looking  upward 
and  not  downward,  looking  forward  and 
not  backward,  ever  ready  to  lend  a  helping 
hand,  and  not  afraid  to  die." 


234  In  Memoriam. 


[Dr.  Elliott,  at  the  Memorial  Service  in  the  University 
Chapel,  January  29,  1899.] 

THE  first  time  I  ever  saw  Mr.  Thoburn 
was  in  the  golden  summer  of  1891.  I  think 
he  merely  passed  through  my  office  to  talk 
with  President  Jordan  about  the  graduate 
work  he  hoped  to  do.  He  was  to  be  ap- 
pointed to  the  pastor's  charge  at  Mayfield, 
and  had  as  yet  no  point  of  contact  with  the 
University  except  the  student  side  of  him. 
And  so,  when  the  University  opened,  he 
was  enrolled  in  the  Department  of  Zoology. 
But  even  at  the  first  he  could  not  remain 
to  us  merely  a  student,  and  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  November,  1891,  by  invitation  of 
President  Jordan,  he  preached  his  first  ser- 
mon in  the  Chapel  —  on  "  Liberty."  For  two 
years  he  maintained  the  student  relation, 
and  then  quietly  and  modestly  took  his 
place  among  us,  his  life  expanding  into  all 
the  avenues  of  university  activity,  his  infhi- 
ence  widening  and  deepening  as  the  years 
went  on. 

What  all  this  meant  to  the  University  in 
its  plastic  days  we  shall  realize  better  by 
and  by.  Just  now  it  is  the  personal  side 
that  touches  us  most  keenly;  and  the  inevi- 


In  Memoriam.  235 

table  dwelling  upon  these  personal  relations 
is  both  our  pain  and  our  consolation. 

His  leadership  was  unmistakable.  And 
yet,  it  is  a  word  we  shall  probably  use  now 
for  the  first  time.  To  him  the  characteriza- 
tion would  have  seemed  absurd;  for  what 
he  did  was  without  the  slightest  parade  of 
command.  Even  in  matters  where  his  mas- 
tery was  undoubted  he  seemed  to  trust  him- 
self but  timidly.  Not  that  he  hesitated 
about  doing  the  thing  that  needed  to  be 
done,  but  he  seemed  to  depend  upon  and 
to  need  to  feel  the  close-following  loyalty 
of  those  about  him:  he  could  not  be  quite 
conscious  of  the  strength  and  decision  which 
he  constantly  exhibited.  In  truth,  his  leader- 
ship was  the  natural  primacy  of  a  full-stat- 
ured  man  whose  life  was  rooted  in  unselfish 
doing  and  thinking.  He  was  wise  in  the 
deep  things  of  the  soul,  not  by  virtue  of 
any  subtle  philosophy,  but  through  simple, 
direct  living,  with  open  countenance  toward 
the  truth  wherever  he  found  it.  He  never 
met  anybody's  need  by  phrases  or  by  subter- 
fuges. He  never  assumed  to  solve  any  prob- 
lems for  you  which  he  had  not  solved  for 
himself.  But  he  saw  into  deep  depths,  and 
he  loved  to  the  uttermost.  That  he  was 
rewarded  by  affection,  by  the  trust  and 


236  In  Memoriam. 

confidence  of  those  Avho  doubted  and  were 
bewildered,  and  by  a  more  and  more  general 
recognition  of  the  pre-eminence,  the  sim- 
plicity and  robustness  of  his  moral  leader- 
ship, was  so  natural  and  spontaneous  that  we 
accepted  it  all  without  remark  and  almost 
without  observation. 

Some  men  have  religious  sides  to  them. 
It  may  be  that  they  are  religious  intellec- 
tually. They  absorb  and  put  forth  state- 
ments about  faith,  and  hope,  and  love, 
without  ever  learning  to  be  really  faithful, 
or  hopeful,  or  loving.  Or,  they  are  religious 
emotionally.  Their  feelings  are  touched  by 
religious  imagery.  They  are  melted  and 
fused  by  the  simple,  universal  devotional 
chords.  But  when  the  organ  peal  has  died 
away,  when  the  rhythmic  litany  has  spent 
its  last  beat,  they  snap  back  into  prosaic 
sordidness  without  a  trace  of  the  divine 
brooding  which  stirred  them.  If  you  meet 
them  in  the  classroom,  the  laboratory,  on 
the  athletic  field,  or  by  the  fireside,  there 
is  no  sign  of  those  deeper  currents  which 
for  the  moment  seemed  the  real  movement 
of  their  lives.  It  was  not  so  with  Mr.  Tho- 
burn.  He  had  no  religious  side.  He  did 
not  have  beliefs  or  religious  emotions  which 
he  exercised  and  cultivated.  He  was  a  child 


In  Memoriam.  237 

of  God.  His  life  was  of  one  piece.  Its 
quality  was  never  different,  whatever  the 
occasion  or  situation. 

Some  men  have  the  gift  of  tongues. 
They  have  a  trick  of  phrasing.  We  look 
to  them  for  something  impassioned;  and 
in  ecclesiastical  harness  they  are  brilliant 
preachers,  powerful  in  prayer,  eloquent  in 
testimony.  Theirs  is  the  mighty  power  of 
swaying  human  emotions;  and  yet,  what 
a  dangerous  gift :  for  behind  it  there  may 
be  only  simulation !  He  had  no  such  gift. 
Yet  his  was  a  rare  power  of  expression. 
What  he  said  came  straight  out  of  a  deep 
personal  experience.  Everything  had  grown 
in  his  own  garden;  and  because  in  his  own 
garden,  you  knew  the  flower,  you  felt  the 
homey  fragrance.  His  experience  touched 
yours  in  its  highest  reaches.  He  phrased 
o\it  of  his  own  life  and  aspiration  what  was 
active  or  latent  in  your  life  and  aspiration. 
For  years,  on  almost  every  Sunday,  he  has 
spoken  the  prayer  that  opens  our  morning 
service.  How  simply  and  truly  he  spoke 
it !  It  was  formal,  as  all  public  prayer  must 
be,  but  it  was  never  made  up.  It  rang  true 
with  his  own  life  tones.  It  reached  out  for 
us  all  and  took  hold  of  the  hidden  springs 
of  life;  it  touched  the  heights.  And  how 


238  In  Memoriam. 

in  all  the  little  meetings  —  the  morning- 
Chapel  of  the  old  dispensation,  the  Chris- 
tian Association  of  his  old,  stronger  days, 
the  Vesper  Service  —  he  spoke  the  sure 
word,  —  something  searching,  something 
illuminating,  something  heartsome ! 

The  twenty-three  sermons  he  preached  in 
this  Chapel  were  all  pre-eminently  Stanford 
sermons.  That  is,  they  met  the  need,  and 
traversed  the  thought,  and  touched  the  life 
that  was  developing  and  ceaselessly  flowing 
here  in  our  little  community.  He  under- 
stood it  so  well,  he  believed  in  it  so  thor- 
oughly. He  revealed  us  to  ourselves.  He 
brought  us  to  our  inheritance.  He  showed 
us  the  infinite  relations.  Who  that  heard 
will  forget  his  sermon  on  "Prayer."  Only 
a  few  weeks  ago  I  said  to  him  that  he  ought 
to  repeat  it  every  year.  But  it  had  met  the 
need  of  a  particular  occasion,  and  had  not 
been  written  down.  The  words  could  not  be 
recalled, —  but  the  fragrance  remains.  And 
his  sermon  on  "The  Way,"  with  something 
of  the  deep,  fearless,  majestic  assurance 
of  the  great  redwood  trees  under  which 
it  was  written  down  in  those  August  days 
of  1897!  And  there  will  always  be  some- 
thing unspeakably  precious  in  his  last  pub- 
lic message,  the  deep,  tender  expression,  at 


In   Memoriam.  239 

Vespers,  of  the  meaning  and  triumphing 
faith  of  that  terrible,  newest  experience 
in  his  own  life  when  the  waters  had  gone 
over  his  soul. 

He  spoke  once  or  twice  of  a  volume  of 
Stanford  sermons,  a  composite  of  the  most 
helpful  things  that  had  been  said  in  our 
Chapel  by  various  men.  But  for  the  first 
volume  of  Stanford  sermons  surely  this 
only  is  appropriate:  such  of  his  own  dis- 
courses as  by  good  fortune  were  committed 
to  manuscript. 

Religion  was  to  him  not  intellectual  formu- 
lation of  any  kind.  He  did  not  go  about 
hewing  down  barriers  which  shielded  any 
other  human  soul  ;  but  for  himself  he 
leaped  them  all.  And  he  was  always  dis- 
covering to  themselves  the  religious  in  men. 
He  worked  with  many  who,  having  put  away 
the  apparatus  of  religious  expression,  had 
assumed  that  they  had  thereby  put  aside 
their  religion.  He  refused  all  arbitrary  dis- 
tinctions. He  insisted  on  counting  true  men 
where  they  belonged,  and  sharing  to  them  the 
heritage  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  And  so  he 
was  optimistic,  hopeful  of  the  religious  life 
here  among  us  ;  and  the  deepening  church 
and  home  feeling  in  our  Sunday  services, 
which  he  labored  so  wisely  to  set  growing, 


240  In  Memoriam. 

was  to  him  a  happy  omen  of  the  future 
activities  and  associations  which  should 
strengthen  and  hearten  the  lives  of  unnum- 
bered generations  of  students. 

The  University  was  also  Mr.  Thoburn's 
opportunity.  The  paths  of  scholarship 
opened  gratefully  to  him,  and  he  entered  with 
keen  zest  upon  the  fresh  ways  of  original 
research.  Alas,  that  his  zeal  so  soon  outran 
his  strength,  and  he  must  pay  for  his  enthu- 
siasm in  the  familiar  way !  He  never  tried 
to  reach  sp  far  again,  but  his  work  had 
clearly  opened,  and  for  this  there  had  been 
the  long  preparation  of  a  life  lived  out  in 
sincerity  and  in  truth.  His  own  growth  was 
stimulated,  and  every  year  we  saw  his  grasp 
become  surer  and  his  horizon  wider.  How 
hopefully,  even  exultingly,  his  thought  leaped 
to  meet  the  new  expansion  stirring  every- 
where in  our  Stanford  air,  whose  first  fruits 
are  the  great  new  buildings  already  nearing 
completion  or  planned  for  the  immediate 
future !  The  University  made  him  a  part 
of  itself  because  it  could  not  help  it.  The 
University  needed  —  not  particularly  his 
scholarship,  not  particularly  the  filling  of 
any  gaps  in  its  schedule  of  courses:  it  needed 
his  manhood,  his  life-giving  quality,  his 
inspiration,  his  life.  It  gave  his  chair  differ- 


In   Memoriam.  241 

ing  names:  he  used  to  smile  at  their  variety. 
But  there  was  never  any  doubt  as  to  the  use 
to  be  made  of  him. 

And  does  he  cease  to  be  at  the  Univer- 
sity? Is  this  the  end?  The  time  must 
come  when  not  a  student  shall  know  his 
name.  Perhaps  some  day  he  will  be  recalled 
by  none,  student  or  faculty.  But  the  Uni- 
versity can  never  forget  his  presence.  It 
will  never  be  the  same  as  if  he  had  not  lived 
and  worked.  Good  that  is  good  enough  to 
work  in  human  lives  is  never  '  interred  with 
the  bones.' 

He  lived  near  to  God,  and  iu  death  he 
could  not  be  very  far  from  Him.  It  cannot 
shake  our  faith  that  we  shall  see  his  face  no 
more.  That  he  felt,  and  knew,  and  cher- 
ished the  immortal  in  life  is  our  highest 
assurance  of  his  immortality.  And  though 
we  shall  see  his  face  no  more,  there  is  some- 
thing that  remains.  He  touched  our  indi- 
vidual lives.  We  shall  never  be  quite  the 
same  again.  We  shall  have  a  clearer  ideal ; 
we  shall  have  a  steadier  purpose;  we  shall 
face  life  with  greater  courage. 

The  work  he  did  here,  the  work  he  left 
undone,  this  he  would  not  have  chosen  that 
we  remember.  Hallam  Tennyson  tells  of 
his  father's  last  visit  to  Frederick  Tennvson, 


242  In  Memoriam. 

in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  "When  the  brothers 
bade  '  good-bye '  they  thought  that  they 
would  not  in  this  life  see  each  other  again: 
'  Good-night,  true  brother,  here,  good-morrow 
there.'"  So  he  would  have  parted  with  us, 
and  so  he  would  wish  to  be  remembered: 
just  in  the  spirit  of  comradeship,  and  in  the 
bonds  of  good-fellowship.  A  brave  fare- 
well, and  facing  the  future  ! 


NOT  by  his  simple  eloquence  he  won, 
Straightforward  as  the  story  of  a  child; 
Not  by  his  doctrines,  pure  and  undefiled, 
Drawn  from  the   teachings  of  his   Father's 

Son ; 

Not  by  his  deep  devotion  to  the  truth  — 
Fearless  he  faced  it,  piercing  every  cloud, 
He    spurned   the   trammels   by   the    Church 

allowed  — 
He  homage  drew  from  child,  age,  manhood, 

youth. 

But  this  :  that  never  word  or  act  of  sham 
Was  his;  he  could  have  taught  us :  "As  I  am, 
Be  all  of  you;"  his  eloquence  he  lived; 
The  truth  he  sought  and  found,  and  loved,  he 

lived ; 

Between  his  doctrines  and  himself  no  strife  : 
He  lived  them.     And  men  loved  him  for  his 

life. 

JOSEPH  HUTCHINSON. 
January  15, 1899. 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


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